


Complications of being Roxanne Weasley

by Anrheithwyr



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Death, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Mild Language, Original Character Death(s), Recreational Drug Use, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 07:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10759437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anrheithwyr/pseuds/Anrheithwyr
Summary: Having officially graduated from Hogwarts, Roxanne finds herself with little to do except hang out with friends and get into arguments with her mum about Roxy's "future". As strange things begin happening, though, Roxy finds that fretting about finding a job may just be the least of her worries. As Roxy struggles with adulthood, she may soon have to struggle for her life.





	1. Prologue: Dawn approaches with baby

**Author's Note:**

> Credit for the following story goes to Lydia, for being a great friend and dealing with me texting her about plot ideas at three in the morning; to Georgie, for looking over chapters to find my mistakes; and, of course, to Ms. Rowling, for creating such a wonderful world for us all to explore. As always, I own nothing that is recognised.
> 
> Thank you and enjoy.

27 September, 2009  
"How long 'till closing, sir?" his assistant, a twenty-something brunette named Anne, asked when George walked past her towards the till.

"Why? Have a date tonight?" he joked, but Anne only shook her head. She wasn't much for jokes or pranks—ironic, since she worked in wizarding Britain's most prominent joke shop. "We've still got about two hours on the clock. Do you need to leave early?"

"No sir. I've just been feeling a bit under the weather is all."

"I could send you home now—"

"No thanks, sir. It's my job to help you close up, after all. Even if I'm sick, you hired me to perform a job and that is what I'm here to do. I can be sick on my own time." Anne was, if nothing else, dedicated to a fault.

"Alright," George replied with a shrug. If she didn't want to go home, he wasn't going to push her. After all, Anne was one of his hardest workers and had long-since made it past the usual turnover rate of the majority of his employees. "But if you start to feel worse, sit down or something for me, okay? I don't want you throwing up or anything."

"Yes sir." Anne walked away briskly to attend to two young wizards who were eagerly admiring the Puking Pastilles. He smiled fondly as she left, knowing Anne wouldn't have asked to leave if she was bleeding out all over the floor.

George looked around his shop, a sense of pride bursting in his chest; Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had become a prominent fixture in Diagon Alley ever since its inception thirteen years ago. Hundreds of curious shoppers came through every single day, admiring the newest novelties and trinkets that George had in store for the masses.

There had been some days where George had been very close to closing the shop for good—after his brother's passing, he had been inconsolable, refusing to get out of bed or eat. There were still days where he simply had no desire to head downstairs in the morning to open up the shop, and left running the place to Anne, who was incredibly understanding—she had lost an older brother during the war and her mother, a muggleborn, had disappeared and to this day remained unfound.

But for the most part, George was in charge of the store, every single day except for April 1st and May 2nd. Those two days were his to do what he wanted with—he supposed that, in a few short years, he'd have to extend at least a half-day vacation to September 1st as well, but for now, his son wasn't old enough to attend Hogwarts.

The shop had been doing astoundingly well, even better than George could have ever predicted—four years ago, he had successfully bought out Zonko's, a dream of his since he was a teenager, and had done it for two thousand less Galleons than he had expected to have to pay.

Now there were two locations for his increasingly popular joke shop; the main one here in Diagon Alley was personally run by George. He lived above the shop with his wife and young son and had easy access to the store below whenever he needed.

Ron, his younger brother, managed the Hogsmeade location. George knew the second shop was in capable hands. His brother, though initially unsure of himself, had bloomed over the years, and the Hogsmeade location had gone through renovations over the summer, finding itself in need of an expansion.

People like Anne, long-term employees, were rare. George had gone through a number of employees over the years—most were recently graduated Hogwarts kids in need of a decent temporary job.

But George liked to think that he was a good boss to everyone who worked for him, no matter how old or why they wanted the job. And everyone who had worked at the shop had nothing but compliments about him.

Customers were always fawning over Freddie who, at six years old, was already showing signs of taking after his legendary prankster of a father. The customers and employees all loved Freddie, mischievous as he was—he was simply just too cute not to like.

And he and Angelina were expecting their second child any day now—they had been trying for a few years to have another baby, because George couldn't imagine the idea of raising his son as an only child, not when his own childhood was always filled with playmates in the form of siblings.

Life was going well for George; the nightmares were mostly gone. He no longer needed a bottle of Butterbeer before going to bed. He was…he was happy. He was content. His family, his workplace—all of it was going exactly how George wanted.

"Dad." George turned, smiling down at his son, who was hiding in the doorway that separated the shop from the flat. The boy was looking around nervously, clearly frightened by something.

George rushed over to the boy, shouting instructions for his assistant, Anne, to take over the till while he was gone. George clapped his hands over Freddie's shoulders, looking the little boy over for injuries. "What's wrong, Freddie? Has something happened?"

"Mummy said to get you. She said the baby's coming and you need to get her to St Mungo's." George's world froze. The baby—the—the—the baby? Coming now? But there was still—still time, the baby wasn't supposed to come for another—another couple of weeks, why was it—why was it—"Dad?" Freddie leaned up to pat George's cheek. "Dad, we have to help Mummy, c'mon. Mummy needs help, c'mon Dad, c'mon."

"Um…" George couldn't think. "H-hey Anne?" His assistant looked over at him curiously. "Can you close up shop for me when it's time? I'm not going to be here. My wife's gone into labour." It didn't feel like him talking, even as he felt his mouth move.

"Oh!" Anne shrieked happily, attracting the attention of several customers. "Of course, Mr. Weasley! You go on right ahead! Congratulations!"

"C'mon Dad," Freddie said anxiously, tugging on George's sleeve. "Mummy needs you. C'mon, let's go."

He allowed himself to led upstairs in a daze, mind struggling to process the baby is coming now. Freddie had been right on time, hadn't he? Right on time. Their second child wasn't supposed to be born until October, it was only the 27th of September now, how—why—was it coming early?

"George?" he heard Angelina groan from the sitting room. George stumbled in to find his wife laying on the sofa, her face twisted in pain as she gripped her protruding stomach. "George, is that you? George, I—I need to get to St Mungo's."

She was breathing heavily, eyes unfocused as she let out a scream that made George twitch. He hated seeing his wife in pain, seeing the way she was hurting. "How—how far apart are contractions, Ange? Remember, Clarissa said not until they're really close? How far apart are they? How far apart, Ange? Ange?" He was losing control, but George couldn't help it.

The baby isn't due for another two weeks, the baby isn't due for another two weeks. Why is it coming now? Why is it early? Have we done something wrong? What's going to happen? Oh Merlin, what's going to happen now? The baby isn't due for another two weeks, the baby isn't due for—

"George!" Angelina screamed, dragging George back to reality. Then, in a much calmer tone, she said, "George, sweetie, can you please stop panicking? Because I'm already panicking and I'm the one going into labour here, remember, dear? Now we really only need one parent to panic, don't we, and since I'm the one whose insides are currently being ripped apart, perhaps you should be the one to maintain a grip on the situation so that I can get the proper attention I need."

"Y-yeah." George shook his head, trying to clear it. He needed to stay calm if he didn't want to mess everything up. "Okay. Okay. Um…how far apart are the contractions, Ange?"

"About three to four minutes," she said heavily, fingers fluttering across her stomach. "I waited as long as I could to get you. I didn't want to pull you away from your job before it was absolutely necessary."

"You could've gotten me sooner."

"Why? You heard what Clarissa said." Clarissa, a mediwitch at St Mungo's and an old friend from Hogwarts, had overseen Freddie's birth and every stage of the pregnancy for their new child as well. Her word was practically golden to them by now. "All you would have been able to do was pace around and panic."

"I guess you're right," George mumbled. "So—so should I take you in now? Are we good to go?"

"The bag is by the door," Angelina replied, pushing herself off the couch slowly, maintaining a firm grip on the arm. She already looked exhausted. "Oh, I've already sent an owl to Ginny—but if you think a Patronus or whatever is faster, then you should probably take care of that—so she can come help with Freddie."

"Y-yeah." Ginny, George's sister, had agreed to come to St Mungo's the second they called on her to watch over Freddie while Angelina gave birth. The women in George's family had very little faith in George's ability to keep it together during the birth of his child.

Just because I fainted last time, George grumbled to himself as he flung the bag around his shoulder and scooped up Freddie, who was still nervously watching from the doorway. "C'mon, little man," he told the boy, moving to help Angelina stay upright. "We're going to St Mungo's to welcome your new baby brother or sister."

"Baby." Freddie happily snuggled against his father's chest as they stepped into the fireplace, George yelling "St Mungo's!" into the fireplace as Angelina continued to breath heavily. He gripped her hand tightly, giving his wife the most reassuring look he could muster.

"I love you Ange," he said, hoping she could hear him over the roar of green flames. George couldn't imagine how awful she had to be feeling at that moment as the flat disappeared from view; Floo travel made practically everyone sick. "We're gonna be okay, yeah?"

"I'm fine," she murmured, stepping out of the fireplace hurriedly, looking ill. "Or," she gripped her midsection again, grimacing, "rather, I'm not fine, but the Floo isn't the issue here. C'mon, Mr. Weasley, go find me Clarissa."

"George?" Ginny was rushing over, handing her young daughter off to a rather flustered-looking Harry, who was already struggling to keep his sons under control. "Oh Ange, you're really close!" She looked down in astonishment at Angelina. "Here George, give me Freddie and go get her to maternity."

"I don't want Dad to leave!" Freddie protested as he was handed off, but then caught sight of four year old James and forgot all about his parents and the incoming baby.

George escorted Angelina over to the receptionist, explaining that his wife was in labour and that they really needed to see Healer Bartley immediately. The receptionist, a little astounded, nodded, casting a wispy Patronus. Two minutes later, Clarissa, already in scrubs, burst out from the main hallway, running over as quickly as she could.

"Oh you two! Couldn't even send me an owl or anything before you got here—this is just like you Ange." The mediwitch led them quickly further into St Mungo's. "C'mon, this way, this way. I'm sure you lot know exactly where maternity is. Merlin knows you've come here enough."

"Nice to see you too, Clare," George joked, laughing weakly as Angelina gave out another groan. He looked nervously over at his wife, who waved George off, protesting that she was fine, there was only a goddamn person trying to claw its way out of her.

"She seems cheery," Clarissa said happily, leading them into a birthing room. "Luckily, we've had this place prepped for a few days now."

"You knew we were coming?"

"No, 'course we didn't know. But it's just one of those things we do for patients, getting the rooms prepped a little before the due date. Babies almost never come when we expect them to, so it's better to be ready for situations like this."

"Oh."

He helped one of the mediwizards lay Angelina down, piling pillows behind her head as she groaned again, more loudly this time.

"And now," Clarissa said, grabbing George by the elbow. "It is time for Daddy to go play the waiting game outside with the rest of his family."

"What? Why?" George protested, twisting to see as Angelina murmured something to the closest Healer. "Ange needs me. That's my baby, my baby needs me—"

"George, you fainted last time, remember?"

"I won't this time!"

"Look, we just think it's best for you to stay outside the room for this birth. You were a little…well, a little out of control last time. You'll only worry Angelina—and me—and that'll make bringing the baby out harder than is necessary."

Memories of him going pale with worry every time Angelina groaned or screamed flashed through George's head. "Fine. But the second the baby's born-"

"I'll come get you," Clarissa promised before shoving him from the room. "Now go wait with everyone else and be patient. She's so dilated this should only take a few hours. I'm expecting a quick and easy birth."

George, a bit dazed from how quickly everything had happened, made his way back to the main waiting room, where Ginny and Harry were playing with the kids. His mother and father were already waiting as well, and Molly leapt up when George came over.

"They kicked me out. Said I was too wild last time and that it'd be best for me to wait out," he explained, dropping into one of the chairs. He put his head in his hands and groaned.

"I hope you don't mind, but I've already sent owls off to your brothers," Molly said, scooting over to pat him on the back. "Bill said he'll be here soon, but Percy's currently stuck at work—"

"Of course he is," George muttered. Molly shot him a look but continued on.

"—though Audrey said she'll at least come by with the girls while we wait. I suspect Charlie won't be coming, again, but I suppose that's what you get when your son decides he loves dragons more than his own mother and runs off to Romania."

"Charlie doesn't love dragons more than you Mum," Ginny said, exasperation colouring her voice. "He loves dragons more than everyone. Besides, what's the last birth he actually came to see? Albie's? And that was three years ago."

"He was only here for Victoire's and Albus'," Molly grumbled. "He's hardly ever here anymore, even for Christmas. My own son."

"Hey Mum? I don't mean to be rude or anything, but can we please focus on the fact that my wife is currently giving birth in another room?" George asked. Arthur opened his mouth as though to tell George off, but Molly only nodded, sniffling slightly.

"Sorry. I suppose I do get a bit carried away about these sorts of things. But I'm a mother—I always worry."

"That you do," George and Ginny said together, and Molly rolled her eyes at them.

"Have you picked out a name yet?" Harry asked—the first thing he'd said the whole time. George glanced over at his brother-in-law. Harry always seemed mildly uncomfortable at family events, despite having been married to Ginny for seven years, and being seen as a part of the family for even longer.

"We don't even know the gender yet, actually. Clarissa says it shouldn't be too much longer, though. Angelina was about ready to burst when we got her here."

It was not a few hours later that the baby was born. It was thirteen.

Dawn was breaking when they finally let George in. It was the early morning of September 28th, and for the second time in his life, George had become a father. Clarissa was the one to actually get him, giving him a big grin as she stuck her out into the waiting room.

"How about just Daddy for now?" she said when Molly tried to follow after them. The older woman paused, looking annoyed, but George nodded, eager to see his new son or daughter. "We'll come back for the rest of you after the new parents have had some time."

The head mediwitch smiled as she escorted George to Angelina's room. Clarissa looked tired, bags under her eyes and frizzy hair sticking out from underneath her cap, but she also was excitedly leading George to his wife.

"It's a girl," Clarissa said, bright eyes shining, pausing outside of the birthing room. "A healthy baby girl. 46 centimetres long and weighing a whopping 2.9 kilograms. Not bad, as far as newborns go. And she's certainly very pretty. Healthy lungs, for sure—she was quite the screamer, but she's resting now. Quite exhausting work, being born. We cut the cord, cleaned her, and weighed her before getting you, if you don't mind, considering you fainted last time you were here."

"That was six years ago! Are you ever going to let me live that down?" George protested lightly, but the mediwitch only shook her head, amused, and pushed open the door, letting George into his wife's room.

"She's been demanding to know where you were since the moment we took you out." Clarissa turned her attention to Angelina, who looked up at them from her bed. "Hello, Mrs, Weasley, I've got George back now. If you want, I could give you a little privacy?"

"Yes, please, Clare?" Angelina looked gratefully at her old friend. "What about Freddie, though? Where is he? Is Freddie being taken care of?"

"Freddie's under the supervision of Mrs. Potter right now. We can bring family in one by one or in small groups—or even all at once, if that's what you prefer—but we typically try to let Mummy and Daddy have some alone time with the new baby before everyone else comes storming in here to see. And besides, you've got some thinking to do."

Clarissa smiled at them again, slipping from the room as quietly as she could while George pulled a chair over to Angelina. He looked her over, seeing the exhaustion in her face, the sweat that poured down her cheeks.

She had never been more beautiful to him than she was in that exact moment, dishevelled and in need of a shower. He fell in love with her all over again, like they were twenty years old and sitting on the beach outside his brother's house.

George leaned over to kiss her on the cheek, his hand moving to stroke his daughter's tiny forehead. She looked so fragile, so innocent. The baby twitched slightly at George's touch, but then settled once more against Angelina's chest, mouth opening and closing a few times.

"What are we going to name her?" Angelina asked, looking down at the beautiful little girl in her arms. George smiled at the sleeping newborn; he could already see himself in eleven years, seeing his daughter off for her first at Hogwarts. "We never did pick out a name, did we George? Maybe that would've been smarter, maybe we should've—"

"Shh," George said, kissing her again. "Everything's okay, Ange. It's okay. We're naming her right now, aren't we? We're going to give our daughter the best name ever. I promise. It'll be beautiful, just like her. Just like you."

"Git," Angelina replied, laughing. "Well, we certainly can't name her Molly, now can we?" Percy had already taken the name for his own daughter, his firstborn child, eight years previous. "And she doesn't look very much like a Stephanie to me." Stephanie—the name of Ange's mother. "Besides that, I think tying our first kid to somebody else was enough for me. Don't you think she should have an original name?"

George nodded, deep in thought. He stood, pacing the room, walking from Ange's bed to the window, where he stopped, looking out at the slowly rising sun. That's when he had an idea—a name, the perfect name for his baby girl, because it was just as beautiful as she was, as she would be one day.

"Roxanne," he murmured, turning to look at Angelina, a smile breaking out on his face. "We should call her Roxanne. It means dawn, bright—just like her. What do you think? Roxanne, Roxanne, Roxanne Weasley." He repeated the name a few more times, testing it out, liking the way the name sounded. "Roxanne Weasley? Is that who she is?"

"I like the name Roxanne," Angelina replied. "Roxy for short, I suppose. It's very pretty. And—and her middle name? What do you think?"

"Oh, well I was thinking perhaps Anne or something along those lines, but if you wanted something else..."

His wife narrowed her eyes at him. "No, definitely not Anne. What about Raechell? Roxanne Raechell Weasley, how does that sound?"

"Alright, then, we're agreed. Roxanne Raechell Weasley." They were grinning at each other like mad people, repeating the name back and forth, trying it, tasting it, and exploring their daughter's new name like blind people given sight for the first time in their lives. The name sounded like promises, like potential, like happiness. The new parents looked down at their daughter, and they decided. "Roxanne Raechell Weasley. That's who you are."

The girl named Roxanne Raechell Weasley only cooed quietly in response, unaware of the decision that had just been made that would change her life forever.


	2. Graduation: Part 1

19 years later

21 June, 2028

"Graduation day!" Gwen yelled, leaping from her bed, much to the annoyance of her room-mates. Gwenyth Cauldwell had never been much of a cheerful or excitable person up until recently, when the exhilaration of nearly having finished with school for good appeared to finally have caught up with her.

The other Slytherin girls groaned—Roxanne was fairly certain she heard the quiet thump of a pillow hitting the floor in a missed attempt at hitting Gwen in the face—but Gwen only began to cheerily hum to herself as she dashed into their shared lavatory to prepare for the day.

"I bloody swear, she's made even me happy we're getting out today," grumbled Joanna Bartley, who had slept next to Roxanne for the past seven years. "I mean, for fuck's sake, how can Gwen have gone from Slytherin grump to Miss Bubbles and Sunshine?"

"Mm," Roxanne replied, sitting up. "I dunno, Jo, maybe all those Cheering Charms finally got to Gwen's head, or the stress of N.E.W.T.S. made her lose it for good."

"Certainly did me in, that's for fucking sure."

Roxanne nodded absent-mindedly, turning her attention to the picture on her dresser; a friendly boy with a lop-sided grin waved up at her. The boy was, at most, nineteen or twenty, and looked quite similar to Roxanne—which was understandable, as the boy in the picture was Roxanne's older brother, Freddie Weasley.

Roxanne sighed as Freddie continued to wave happily up at her, wondering how it was that she was expected to have everything packed up by the time her mum arrived for the graduation ceremony. She had collected so many things over the past seven years, it was ridiculous to believe she'd have everything ready in time.

"Perhaps you should've started sooner Roxy," Jo replied when Roxanne conveyed her feelings to the girl. Jo had been packed since Monday, because she was the responsible one, the one who always made sure everyone else was prepared for class or holidays or whatever else Jo could think of to prepare for.

Roxy, on the other hand, took a much more relaxed approach to life—case in point, that she had yet to pack up a single item yet, despite the fact that parents would be arriving by noon and it was—oh, fucking Merlin, was it already so late?—eight-thirty.

She scrambled to get up, wondering how rude it would be of her if she kicked the now-singing Gwen from the shower, but then decided against it. Getting into an argument with a dorm-mate over showers? And on the last day? Roxy could be childish sometimes, but never petty.

Or at least not without good reason.

"So are your cousins coming by then, Roxy?" Aleah Vanwert asked innocently from her own bed, where she had been finishing up her morning routine of brushing her hair one hundred times, something she swore was just a Muggle custom picked up from her next-door neighbour and not a sure sign that she was slowly going mad.

"Dunno, I suppose they will," Roxy replied, noticing the slight blush that crept across Aleah's face at the mention of Roxy's cousins. "I mean, it's sort of a Weasley tradition, attending each other's graduation ceremonies each time. I always went to theirs'."

Aleah was, of course, not the first girl to have a weird crush on some cousin of Roxy's. Rox had, in fact, spent much of her Hogwarts years dealing with questions from the other girls, who wanted to know all about Louis and James and Albus.

A few times, people had even approached to ask about her brother, which had been massively weird, but most of the questions about him had stopped after her second year, luckily. She didn't think she could have handled answering some love-sick girl about Freddie's personal life.

"Is it weird—" Aleah started, and then fell silent when Jo frantically attempted to shush her. Roxy noticed, though, because she had been expecting the question to come up eventually.

"Mum'll be there for me," Roxy said with a shrug. "At least I'll have that, yeah?"

"Yeah," Aleah replied, giving Roxy a smile that tried to refrain from containing pity—she, as usual, failed miserably.

"Mum's always been there for me, you know. And I'm glad, really, that everyone will be coming up to see me. Emily's even bringing Faith, so I'll finally get to meet her."

"Oh?" Aleah's eyes went wide. "That'll be nice, won't it? How old is she now? Three?"

"Four, I think."

"Wow, four? It's already been so long?"

"Aleah," Jo said around a cough, shooting her dorm-mate another warning glance. Aleah blushed again and looked down at her hands.

The dorm had fallen awkwardly silent, with no one wanting to say anything, until the lavatory door burst open and Gwen came bounding back out.

"Shower's open for anyone who wants it!" she practically sang, oblivious to the uncomfortable tension between her dorm-mates. "Has anyone woken up Cheyenne and Lyric? We haven't got that much time, you know."

"Yeah, I'll do that," Jo replied, sliding off of her bed to wake up the other two girls who shared their dorm. Roxy was surprised to see they were still asleep, given how noisy Gwen had been, but Cheyenne was a heavy sleeper, and Lyric was probably just faking sleep in the hopes that they'd leave her alone.

"I'll take the lav next, if no one else minds," Roxy said, heading for the door, glad for the chance to exit the shared room. She knew Aleah didn't mean to be intrusive, but that didn't make her questions sting any less.

Roxy tried to hurry through her morning routine, knowing the other girls would grow restless and grumble at her if she took too long to get ready. But, as she was brushing her teeth, Roxy couldn't help but look at herself in the mirror.

She was a tiny girl—at only one hundred and forty-seven centimetres, she was the shortest of her cousins—with a mess of curly dark hair with the slightest red hue to it, and eyes that changed from brown to blue depending on the lighting. Roxy was also rather slender, which had led to several worried discussions between her parents about her eating habits when Roxy was younger, but Roxy had alwaysbeen naturally thin, much to her dorm-mates annoyance.

When she finally finished, Roxy scurried back into the dorm to see her last two dorm-mates had finally gotten out of bed and were grumpily getting themselves ready for the day. Cheyenne wordlessly headed into the lavatory while Lyric sighed endlessly as she brushed her hair.

"I decided to start packing for you, since I'm already set," Jo said when Roxy noticed her trunk had been opened, her belongings half-packed, the contents settled in much more neatly than Roxy had ever been able to manage.

"Oh, thanks Jo," Roxy said, and Jo gave her a small smile as Roxy finished up the job by tossing everything else into the trunk. Soon enough, the only thing left was the picture of her brother, which Roxy gave one last look before tossing it into the trunk along with everything else.

She really didn't feel like letting Freddie overshadow her day.

Roxy headed towards the Great Hall, where the graduation ceremony would take place, talking with Jo and Aleah about how weird it would be to wake up tomorrow—tomorrow, for Merlin's sake!—and no longer be Hogwarts students.

"Oh, Roxanne, darling Roxy!"

The next thing she knew, Roxanne's vision was full of red hair as her cousin Lily grabbed Roxy into a tight hug, threatening to topple the short girl over.

"Lily, you're suffocating me," Roxy said, letting out an airy laugh when Lily squeezed her tightly before finally letting go. "You might've broken a rib there, Lils."

"Sorry, Rox," Lily said, grinning at her cousin. "I guess I got a bit out of hand—I was just so excited to see you again! It's been so long."

"We saw each other at Christmas, Lils."

"Ages and ages ago," Lily said, waving her hand impatiently. "I've broken up with two boyfriends since then, you know."

"Have you?"

"Oh, don't look at me like that, you know how I am. The famous Lily Potter, letting herself be tied down for more than a few months? Imagine the scandal that would start."

"Oh, yes, Witch Weekly would have a field day with you, I imagine." Roxy laughed, imagining the ridiculous stories that had popped up in the past about Lily's previous relationships. "I suppose they'd suspect you're planning marriage next."

"How dreadful," Lily replied, looking horrified. Though she was only twenty, Lily had made it perfectly clear she had no intentions of marrying—ever—and had made it her solemn vow that she would never date a boy for more than ninety days.

"So who is it now?" Roxy asked curiously. "Last time I checked, you were going out with…Rahul Vedatha, is that right?"

"Oh, him? Like I said, ages ago."

"What was wrong with Rahul? I thought he was pretty cute."

"Try boring with a capital B, Roxy. It was like dating Uncle Percy—all he ever wanted to talk about his job as a printer. He had no personality at all."

"Then why'd you date him, then?" Roxy couldn't contain her laughter at Lily's antics. Her cousin had always been a little ridiculous at times, but she was especially bad when it came to partners.

"Oh, I don't really recall," Lily said vaguely, sounding bored. "But Rahul is in the past. Now it's all about Tolkien."

"As in Smith?" Roxy asked, shocked. If she recalled correctly, Tolkien was the youngest of five, a year older than Lily. Most importantly, he'd been in Slytherin and had gained a reputation as rather, well, sleazy. Roxanne remembered seeing him around a few of the more…unsavoury parties she had attended with Jo."I didn't peg him as your type, Lils."

"Oh, Rox, everyone's my type, remember? Besides, I rather like the idea of dating a bad boy. Daddy doesn't approve—of course—but he can't really say much, now can he?"

"Mm," Roxy replied quietly. She secretly suspected that Uncle Harry, who was the Head Auror for the Ministry of Magic, could probably say and do whatever he wanted if he felt like stopping Smith from dating his daughter, but figured that right now wasn't the best time to get into that argument with Lily.

"But that's not important. What is important is that a little birdy told me that you have a boyfriend?" Lily raised her eyebrows.

"A little birdy?" Roxy laughed. "Do you mean Teddy? Because he's not exactly little—"

"Roxy," Lily sighed. "Off-topic. It doesn't matter who told me. I just want to know—is it true? What's his name? Is he cute?"

"Kieran? He's pretty cute, yeah."

"Wait!" Lily gawked at Roxy, eyes widening comically. "You're dating Kieran Kanallakan? Why didn't you tell me? He's majorly adorable, Rox! If you had told me—Kieran? How long has this been going on?"

"Oh, since January, I guess? I mean, I just didn't think it was really that important, you know? We're not entirely serious or anything, at least I don't feel like we are and—"

"Roxanne Weasley!" she heard her mother yell, and Roxy turned to watch as the woman marched over with a grin on her face. "Oh, Roxanne, I'm so proud of you!"

Roxy blushed when a few of the other seventh years looked over in curiosity. Her mum—a former professional Quidditch player—had never really learned how to speak quietly, even when Roxy begged her to keep it down.

Her mum swept Roxy into a hug, still going on about how proud she was of her daughter; Lily, who seemed to be made uncomfortable by her aunt's almost smothering levels of affection, coughed awkwardly, making some excuse about wanting to congratulate one of her fellow Gryffindors that she remembered.

"But you'll tell me all about Kieran later, right Roxy?" Lily said before flouncing off, making Roxy blush an even darker red, hoping her mum was too caught up in the moment to properly pay attention to what Lily said.

Roxy, finally pulling away from the hug, looked into her mum's eyes, unsure of what, exactly, she was trying to even find. Her mum seemed healthy enough, stable enough—she certainly didn't seem to want to stop beaming down at Roxy any time soon.

"You know, I was worried when you said you didn't feel like coming home for Easter. I guess I'd just gotten so used to being able to rely on you, r cousins to check up on you, and you came home last year, but when you wrote about staying here instead, well, I just wasn't sure what to think. It rather felt like—"

"Mum," Roxy said, laughing. "You're babbling again. Besides, I'm fine, honestly. Like I said in my letter, I just wanted to spend my last Easter hols here at Hogwarts."

Her mum nodded uncertainly, looking around at all the other families who had come to see the graduation of the class of 2028. Roxy noticed Joanne a few metres away, already in an argument with her father.

"You know, I suppose I have been just a bit over-protective, especially as of late, but you're my little girl, Roxy, I live to worry about you—oh, is that Neville? He must be proud of Matilda. First of the class and all," her mum said with a pointed glance at Roxy, who only shrugged.

Professor Longbottom was, in fact, very proud of his daughter, as Roxy could—unfortunately—attest to, having heard him telling several people all about how Matilda had topped the class. Matilda Longbottom. A Ravenclaw to Roxy's Slytherin; their parents had once assumed the two girls would get along fabulously, especially since they were the closest in age.

But Matilda was, in Roxy's opinion, a snooty, stuck-up, know-it-all with no sense of humour. She had been a prefect and Head Girl, for Merlin's sake, positions that were no doubt helped by the fact that her father was the deputy headmaster.

(Not that Roxy would ever accuse Professor Longbottom of nepotism, of course.)

According to Matilda, Roy was a brooding psychopath who had 'future dark witch' written all over her. And only just because Roxy had once threatened to stab Matilda with her stirring rod in potions class.

Well, there was also the fact that Roxy had made it her personal mission to mess with Matilda every chance she got, often charming the girl's hair absurd colours or making snide comments every time Matilda spoke in class. And the time that Roxy had made it begin snowing during one particularly boring History of Magic class, which had cost her twenty points and two weeks detention.

Suffice to say, Roxy was different from Matilda in every way—which was something she was more than pleased to bring up every time her mum, or anyone else, compared the two girls.

"You know, Mum, I did still end up in the top ten," Roxy said loudly. "So I'm not a complete disappointment."

"No one's calling you a disappointment, Roxanne," her mother replied with a sigh.

Roxanne had to bite her tongue to refrain from snapping oh, yeah? She didn't want to be frustrated, not with her mum, not on her graduation day, but she hated being compared to Matilda Longbottom.

"Although, I do wish you could have tried a little harder. I mean, tenth out forty-five isn't bad, but are you sure you were always trying your best, Roxanne? Your brother—"

Roxy tuned her mum out at that point. If there was one person she hated being compared to more than Longbottom, it was her brother. Freddie had been popular. Freddie had been Captain for Gryffindor his sixth and seventh years. Freddie had made eight N.E.W.T.S. and ranked third overall in his year. Freddie had plans and goals for himself after graduation—become the beater for Puddlemere United until he couldn't play anymore, and then take over the joke shop from Dad.

She might have once looked up to her older brother in awe—just one more adoring fan of the great Freddie Weasley—but she was eighteen now, not eight. She wasn't going to compare everything she did against what Freddie had done when he was her age.

"—and that actually reminds me, Roxanne, your hair has simply gotten completely out of control. It's so long now. Are you sure you wouldn't like me to cut it? I think it'd look nice shorter. Oh, look, Neville's heading over here. Hello, Professor Longbottom!" Her mum waved at the professor, who smiled as he made his way over.

"Ange," Professor Longbottom said warmly. "It's nice to see you again." He put an arm around Roxy, giving the girl a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. "We're all very proud of Ms. Weasley here. She's been working particularly hard these past seven years, and I think it really does show."

"Oh, well, she's naturally gifted of course—gets that from her parents. You know, I was in the top five in my year. And George, well." Her mum and Professor Longbottom chuckled, which made Roxy want to scream. How could Mum act so casually about everything? How could she—

"Are you okay, Ms. Weasley?" Professor Longbottom asked suddenly, looking down at the way Roxy was clenching her fists.

"Of course, Professor Longbottom," she replied, doing her best to remain just as cheerful as everyone else here. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Roxanne," her mother said in a warning tone, but Roxy only ignored her and wriggled from Professor Longbottom's grasp. She suddenly wasn't so happy that her mum had shown up for graduation.

"I'm just gonna go, uh, talk to the cousins, okay, Mum?" Roxy said, not waiting around for answer as she hurried off, pretending to be in search of Albus or Louis, but in reality hoping that no one would notice if she slipped outside and went off to the lake for the rest of the day.

"Rox!" she heard someone yell from behind her. Roxy didn't feel like dealing with anyone at the moment, though, and only sped up. "Rox! Roxy! Hey, why're you—hey, Roxy!"

A large hand fell on Roxy's shoulder, spinning her around so that she was staring at her boyfriend—or, more accurately, staring at his chest, because Kieran was incredibly tall. At a hundred and ninety-five centimetres, Kieran was more than fifty centimetres taller than Roxy, part of why she had always thought he was so cute; Kieran definitely had the role of the friendly giant down to perfection.

Kieran gave Roxy a worried glance-over, right hand still gripped on her shoulder while the left one began calmly stroking her arm.

"What's wrong, Rox? You look pretty pissed about something. Was it Longbottom again, because I can fight her if you want—I don't care if she's a girl."

"Not entirely," Roxy sighed. "It's just Mum again. You know, comparing. She's disappointed, I think, because she was top five when she was in school, and so was Freddie and I'm…I'm barely top ten. If Dad hadn't dropped out, I'm sure he would've been top five as well. All my family's always been so successful, and I'm just…not."

"Hey, that's not true, Rox," Kieran said in a comforting voice. "You're totally successful. So what if you're not top five? You still did really well, especially with our class being even larger than most years."

"Easy for you to say, number three."

"I mean it, number ten. You're a bloody genius, fuck what your test scores say."

Roxy shook her head, but she couldn't help but smile anyway. Kieran always knew how to make her feel better. "Thanks, babe. You're really sweet."

"Sweet enough to earn a kiss?"

"Always," she said with a laugh, as Kieran bent down to kiss Roxy. She felt herself melt into his large chest, his warm handed lowering towards her bum—

"Oh, yech," someone groaned, making Roxy jump away from Kieran in shock. It was her cousin James, with that stupid grin of his. "Why do I always manage to walk onto my cousins snogging their partner's brains out? It's bloody disgusting."

"Hello, James," Kieran said with amusement. James pretended to tip his hat in response before turning his attention back to Roxy.

"So, little miss graduate, what're you and lover-boy doing so far away from your seats? The ceremony's going to begin any moment, and what would Aunt Ange think if the two of you had to rush back at the last minute?"

"Stuff it, James."

"Such hostility, Roxy!" James said, but he was chuckling, shaking his head at Roxy like she was an especially amusing pet performing tricks. Roxy was about to retort—angered by his almost condescending attitude towards her—when she noticed Professor Shrever calling for the attention of the seventh years and their families.

The graduation ceremony was beginning.


	3. Graduation: Part 2

When they had been only measly first years on their first day, the names were called alphabetically and by last name, leaving Roxanne as the second-to-last person called upon. The only one after her had been Gale Wedgewood, a fellow Slytherin. But now, for graduation, they were called up by their class rank, as though to hammer home just how important their placement had been while at school.

Before the actual handing out of their diplomas, though, there was the endless speeches to get through. A speech from Minister Kingsley about their bright futures; a speech from Professor Shrever about how proud she was of them; a speech from Professor Longbottom about expectations in the real world. And then, just as Roxy was considering bolting or dying of boredom, came the last speech, the one she had been dreading the most.

The top of the class always spoken just before the diplomas were handed out, and Roxy wrinkled her nose as Matilda Longbottom pranced up to the raised stage usually reserved for the teachers' seating at dinner.

"Oh good," Jo whispered in Roxy's ear. She was number eleven, right after Roxy, and was thus stuck in the seat just behind her. "I'm so glad that we all get to listen to Miss Priss lecture us about our futures, like we don't all know she's going to get knocked up by Myles as soon as she can."

Roxy snorted, looking down the row, where Miles Richards—class rank: four, reputation: suck-up supreme—was sitting. He appeared almost enraptured by his girlfriend's speech, hanging off of her every word as though she were delivering a message from the Founders themselves.

"Merlin, what a tosser," Roxanne muttered. "Any time Matilda says jump, Miles always asks 'how high?'. I swear, he may be a Ravenclaw, and he may be top of the class, but Miles Richards is still the daftest boy I know."

"More than Marvin Ingram?"

Oh, Merlin, don't remind me. Marvin Ingram was the lowest ranked student in their year. A Gryffindor, he wasn't terribly bright, having only passed his courses through a mixture of pity from his classmates and Marvin's inability to keep himself from looking off of other students' work.

Unfortunately, Marvin didn't seem to realise that not only was he lacking the brains to do much more than sit at home all day, he wasn't terribly attractive either. He had a bulbous nose, crooked teeth, and a bad case of acne that never seemed to go down.

He thought he was attractive enough to catch the eye of Roxy—and had, in fact, been bothering her all term, demanding to know why she had agreed to go with Kanallakan to Hogsmeade instead of him for Valentine's Day.

Roxanne had told him off—but, hey, what's the point of being a Slytherin if you can't be rude to people sometimes—but Marvin still asked her out from time to time, no matter how many times she said no.

Jo thought it was hilarious. Roxanne just couldn't wait to get away from him.

"My fellow seventh years," Matilda began, looking out at everyone gathered with a serene, calming look that had fooled many adults in the past into believing that Matilda Longbottom was as innocent as a newborn.

"Oh, Merlin, here we go," Jo whispered.

"My fellow seventh years, today marks our last day here at Hogwarts. After this, we will no longer wander these halls, or attend classes. We will not cheer at games, eat delicious meals, or explore the grounds. The library doors have been closed to us. Some people here, you will never see again. Some of those are currently your best friends, others are your worst enemies—" at this, Roxy swore Matilda looked straight at her. "—but no matter what, we must always remember this one thing: we are Hogwarts. From the lowliest of us to those who will become high-ranking officials at the Ministry, we are Hogwarts. From those who will be dead within a year to those will be alive in one hundred years, we are Hogwarts. From Slytherin to Gryffindor, Hufflepuff to Ravenclaw, we are Hogwarts. Do not forget who you are or where you came from. Do not forget those who helped you to reach your goals, to move past expectations. Do not forget Hogwarts. To forget, to disregard and discard, is to allow the horrors of the past to return. So, my fellow graduates, as we receive our diplomas and prepare for tomorrow, I urge you to depart today with this in mind: we make Hogwarts what it is—but Hogwarts is also inside each of us and will be for the rest of our lives. Thank you."

People cheered as Matilda stepped off the stage, quickly replaced by her father and Professor Shrever; Miles appeared determined to clap the loudest of anyone, practically bouncing in seat to show his enthusiasm.

"Suck-up gi-iit, does anything for some ta-aaail. Shame Miss Priss is too big of a prude to ever put out," Jo muttered in a sing-song voice, and Roxanne snorted. "What the fuck's with Longbottom? 'Hogwarts is inside of each of us.' Like, what the fuck does that mean?"

Roxy only shook her head, not wanting to get into a discussion about Matilda fucking Longbottom's absurd attempts at philosophy. In fact, she'd prefer never to hear the name Matilda Longbottom again after today.

"Students are called up by their rank. They will receive their diploma from our deputy headmaster, Professor Longbottom, and then shake both his and my hand. Pictures are taken only after all awards have been handed out. We thank you for your cooperation," Professor Shrever said, her voice clipped and smart.

"Matilda Longbottom," Professor Longbottom announced, as Professor Flitwick waved for the choir, who began singing the school song slowly. "Recognitions include placing first in her year; being awarded Head Girl in her seventh year; being awarded the position of Prefect in her fifth and sixth years; placing first in Herbology, Transfiguration, Arithmancy, Charms…"

As Professor Longbottom continued on, the other seventh years stood up, each waiting for their name to be called and for their accomplishments to be read aloud. Roxy noticed a few cameras popping, despite Professor Shrever's request, and she couldn't help but wonder if one of those cameras belonged to her mum.

"Roxanne Weasley," Professor Longbottom called, making Roxy jump. Were they really already on her? "Recognitions include placing tenth in her year; placing in first in Potions overall, as well as ranking third in Defence Against the Dark Arts and Charms. She was a Beater for Slytherin from her third to her seventh year. Roxanne currently is undecided for her future plans. Thank you, Roxanne Weasley, for your time here at Hogwarts."

"Congratulations, Ms. Weasley," Professor Longbottom said when Roxy took the diploma from him—which was magically sealed and would open to her wand only. He smiled, and Roxy reciprocated the action, but something about his smile seemed off to her, like his congratulations were not entirely heartfelt.

Roxy shook it off as paranoia, but she was quick to hurry on to Professor Shrever.

"Congratulations, Ms. Weasley," echoed Professor Shrever, shaking Roxy's hand. "You did excellently this year, we're all extremely proud of you."

"Thanks, Professor," Roxy mumbled, eager to get off the platform and back to her seat. She could swear she felt eyes staring into the back of her skull, and was afraid to turn around to see if it was Professor Longbottom.

"Really, Roxanne," Professor Shrever said—and it was the first time she had ever called Roxy by anything except Ms. Weasley. "We are all just so proud of you. I hope you are entirely successful in whatever endeavours you choose."

"Um, thanks, Professor." She hurried off the stage, now rather thrown off. Why were her professors acting so oddly? Why did she feel like someone was watching her—someone interested in more than just observing the ceremony? As though they were assessing her, determining her skill level, her ability to survive, her—

Stop it, Roxy, she told herself. You're turning into Uncle Harry. Paranoid as fuck, convinced there's dark wizards around every corner. Nothing's going to happen. You're only being stared at because everyone's being stared at. This is a ceremony, people are supposed to watch you.

Yet she couldn't shake off the feeling that whoever was looking at her wasn't just watching as Roxy sat down in her seat.

"Congratulations again, Roxanne," Mrs. Kanallakan said. Roxy thanked her, wishing she could get away. Mrs. Kanallakan always seemed convinced that Roxy was about to rob her blind or something equally ridiculous, and the woman's condescending tone made Roxy irritated.

Kieran gave her one last kiss on the cheek before he and his family—so much smaller and organised than her own—walked towards the doors.

Roxy made her way over to where her family was gathered, observing for a few moments as Lily chased James around, screaming at him, while Rose loudly argued with her father over something that Roxy didn't care to listen in on. She sighed, looking around for her mother amongst the gaggle of Weasley mums.

"Did you want me to come with you?" her mum asked when Roxy told her she had to grab her trunk before they could leave. "I'd be happy to come along, if you want. I've never seen the inside of the Slytherin dorms—"

"I'll be fine, Mum. You stay here, I'll be right back, okay?" She looked at her mum, and for a second, Roxy would swear she saw hurt in her mother's eyes; she shook her head, blinking until she could focus again. The glimmer in her mother's eyes was gone, replaced with contentment.

Her mum smiled. "Alright, dear. Hurry, though, Grandmum Molly is throwing you a big dinner and it'd be rude to be late to your own celebration."

"Yes, Mum. I'll be back." She walked quickly off into the direction of the Slytherin dorms, half-expecting that, if she were to turn around, her mum would be following after. She had only gotten more watchful of Roxy over the years.

"Occupari nutantem fortunam," she told the wall, nodding respectfully when the passage opened for her. The dorms, green and dark, were oddly—eerily—empty. The younger students had all departed for the train while the graduation ceremony was occurring, and the seventh years were all still in the Great Hall or were leaving.

She made her way to the girls' dormitory, thrown off by how loud her actions seemed now that there was no one else around to make noise. How strange it must have been to be a ghost—when there had been ghosts at Hogwarts, at least—to wander these empty rooms day after day, year after year, with nothing to do until the students returned in the fall.

Roxy stopped in the doorway of her dorm, the feeling of paranoia from earlier washing over her, though it was much more intense this time. Someone had been in this room recently, someone who didn't belong. She didn't know how she knew, but Roxy could just sense that someone had come into their dorm that shouldn't have been here.

"Hello?" she called, slipping her wand from her back pocket. "I'm armed, so if you're planning on attacking me, just know I won't be going without a fight."

No one answered, and she continued further into the room hesitantly, expecting something to jump at her at any moment. But Roxy made it over to her trunk without incident and let out a sigh that verged on laughter.

If someone had been in here, they were gone now.

She moved to charm her trunk, but then Roxy's eyes fell on her nightstand, and she felt her heart thudding in her chest. The picture of her brother, which she could have sworn she had thrown into her trunk just a few hours ago, was sitting on the nightstand. Freddie continued to wave merrily at her as Roxy gaped.

How was this possible? She had locked her trunk with anti-theft charms—not to mention the difficulty of getting into the Slytherin dorms and then into the girls' room. But someone had just passed through countless security measures to—to what? Mess with her picture? Play a last-minute joke on her?

Roxy let out a short laugh, now on the edge of hysterics. "I'm being ridiculous again, that's all. Overactive imagination and poor memory. Obviously, I must have forgotten to put the picture away with everything else and then forgot that I forgot. There's no way someone broke in. that would be silly. I'm just being paranoid."

"Rox?" she heard from the door, making Roxy nearly jump from her skin. "Oh, sorry, didn't mean to scare you. But your mum's ready to go—she said something about a dinner party at your grandmum's?"

"Thanks, Jo," Roxy said, unlocking her trunk and sweeping the picture inside. She waved her wand, locking the whole thing and, with a sigh, turned back to her dorm-mate of seven years. "I just…y'know, being a bit jumpy again."

"Yeah, you look really shaken. Is everything okay?"

Roxy looked away, briefly considering telling Jo about her suspicions that someone had broken in, but then she shook her head. Better to just let it alone; after all, her feelings were probably nothing anyway. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's probably just 'cause, y'know, leaving Hogwarts and all. Very emotional. Very nerve-wracking."

"I'm with you on that for sure," Jo said with a laugh, levitating her own trunk as well as Roxy's. "Come on, Rox, let's go. Don't want to keep world-famous Ange Weasley waiting for too long. Say, do you think she'd sign something for me? I bet it'd be worth hundreds—or something from your Uncle Harry, that'd be even better!"

Rox stared at Jo in disbelief, but the other girl only burst into laughter.

"You should see the look on your face! Fucking Merlin, did you think I was serious, Rox? I've had Christmas dinner with both of them. It's kind've hard to be in awe of someone after you've seen them spill gravy on their jumper."

Roxy smiled, remembering a few years ago, when Uncle Harry had spilt the whole gravy boat down his front in his eagerness to get up; he had been called, rather last-minute to Aunt Ginny's displeasure, onto a mission and was rushing through good-byes when he had up-ended the gravy boat.

"Yeah, I suppose it is rather difficult to see them as the 'heroes of the war' after that." They walked together in comfortable silence back to the Great Hall, where Mum was, as expected, waiting impatiently, a displeased look on her face.

"You took your time, Roxanne. We've made everyone else wait long enough, it's time to go now," Mum snapped, making Roxy blush. She didn't want Jo to see her mum ordering Roxy around, not when she'd spent most of her time at Hogwarts creating an image of not giving a fuck about rules set by the teachers.

"Sorry, Mum," she mumbled. "See you around, Jo."

"Yeah. Don't forget to write, Rox. I know you know my address now, so don't bullshit me, got it? And don't you dare forget either." Jo was grinning.

Roxy hugged her as Mum grabbed Roxy's trunk, still grumbling about how they should have been at Grandmum Molly's ten minutes ago.  
\---

"So how is it?" her cousin Louis asked, grinning at Roxy from across the table. The celebration was in full swing, with enough food for the whole family laid out across Grandmum Molly's (admittedly magically enlarged) table.

"How's what?"

"Being an officially graduated member of society, of course."

"Oh." Roxy stared down at the Butterbeer in her hands, uncertain, suddenly, how to answer. "It's…alright, I suppose."

"Come on, you've got to feel something," Louis insisted, draining his own bottle. "Excitement, nervousness, elation at getting away from all those pricks? Anything at all?"

"Leave her alone, Louis," said Victoire, who had been quietly comforting her young son William, throughout the party. "She's only been graduated for a few hours, I'm sure Roxy's still in shock mode, just like the rest of us were at first."

"Shocked? Me?" Louis scoffed, but Victoire only raised an eyebrow at him.

"If I recall correctly, you were the one who nearly threw up all over Professor Shrever's shoes when you went to shake her hand."

Louis scoffed again, though Roxy noticed that he stopped pushing her for an answering after that, instead choosing to nurse the empty bottle in his hands.

"Dunno why you even came to the party in the first place," he grumbled, peeling the sticker off of his drink. "I mean, you've got kids, you can't drink anything, and you haven't moved from this seat since you got here."

"Emily's here, and she brought Faith," Victoire pointed out.

"Yeah, but Faith and Emily are only here for Aunt Ange's benefit. They aren't here to celebrate."

Victoire got a determined look in her eye. "Well, I am," she insisted, grabbing a bottle of Butterbeer from the centre of the table and taking a sip. "And I bloody well can drink if I want to. I'm not pregnant anymore."

"That's the spirit, sis" Louis said, grinning. "Hey, where're you going, Rox?"

Roxy had stood up, abandoning her half-finished drink. "I think I'm gonna say hi to Faith," she said quietly. Victoire and Louis glanced at each other behind Roxy's back, but said nothing as she made her way into the sitting room.

Emily was sitting on a faded couch cushion in the midst of her family's partying, holding her daughter in her lap and looking thoroughly out of place. Roxy settled down next to her, giving Emily a tense smile.

Roxy knew she was supposed to like Emily, because she was Faith's mum, but every time Roxy saw the older girl, her stomach churned and her throat closed up. It was hard to see Emily and not be reminded of everything that had happened.

Emily was the first one to break the silence with an awkward, "Hey."

"Hey," Roxy echoed, looking down at her shoes. It was weird, sitting so close to Faith, whom she had only met for the first time today. It was like staring down the rabbit-hole from Alice in Wonderland—everything seemed normal enough about Faith, but underneath, it was just too peculiar.

"Would you like to hold her?" Emily asked, indicating Faith. Roxy raised an eyebrow at her. Faith was, after all, not an infant, but a four year old girl. Emily shrugged. "She likes being held. Don't you Faith?"

"Yeah," the girl mumbled in a sleepy voice, her eyelids drooping. "Like being held."

"She looks like you," Roxy said nervously, reaching out to run a hand through the girl's thick dark curls.

"She looks like you, actually, is more truthful," Emily said, shrugging again. "I've seen a few pictures of you when you were Faith's age. You look almost identical. It's crazy."

No it's not, Roxanne wanted to scream. There must be a logical reason why we look the same, and you know why. You just don't want to say it. No one wants to say it. No one ever says it.

Instead, she nodded. "She's gonna be pretty though, no doubt about it. You'll want to keep her away from the boys when she gets older."

Emily's mouth tightened ever so slightly, but she was still smiling. "Yes. She wouldn't want to end up like her mum, now would she?"

Roxy didn't reply, only continued running her fingers through Faith's hair. She didn't really know what to say in response to that. Sorry? I understand what you mean?

The clock chimed, eight, nine, ten times, and Emily looked up, expression startled like a frightened bowtruckle.

"Is it really already ten o'clock?" She looked down at her watch. "I ought to go. Faith shouldn't be out this late, she's so young—I shouldn't be out so late, either, really. Parties aren't really my thing…not anymore…" Emily trailed off.

"Yeah." Roxy did her best to avoid eye contact. "Well, bye then, I guess. Thanks for coming by and all. Mum appreciated it a lot."

"I'm sure she did." Emily seemed to want to say something more, but only smiled as she stood, scooping Faith up from the couch. "Well, maybe we could stop by later on. For—for your birthday, or something of that sort."

"Sure."

"Okay, great. Um, bye, Roxy. Tell your mum it was lovely seeing her again. And thank your grandmum for—for all the lovely food. She's a great cook." And with that, Emily and Faith were out the door, ignoring Louis' shouted good-bye as she walked to the edge of the grounds so that she could Apparate away from the Burrow.

Roxy sighed and stood up as well. She really needed another Butterbeer after everything that had happened today. And after that, maybe she'd be able to sleep properly for the first time this week.


	4. The kids are (trying to be) alright

A few weeks after she had drunkenly Flooed home following her graduation party, Roxy woke up to find that she was not in her bed.

She sat up with a start, head spinning, looking around her to figure out where the hell she had ended up, rather than her bedroom in the flat above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

There were Quidditch posters on the wall in front of her, Roxy saw when her eyes finally focused enough to make out details. Posters for Puddlemere United, but several years old. Retired players, outdated uniforms by a few years. James wasn't on any of them, either.

Oh. Oh. Roxy twisted behind her to look at the bed, where old magazines were spread across the sheets, clearly untouched in quite some time. She was in her brother's room, which felt more like a museum, untouched and unchanged since the day he had left.

She suspected that, if Roxy were to get up and inspect his dresser, she would find the same stack of letters between Freddie and Emily, bound together and collecting dust inside of the drawer that Freddie had shoved it inside five years ago. His favourite quill was probably still there as well—the one with his name in red and gold writing etched in.

Instead of confirming her suspicions, though, Roxy only stood up and walked out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

She didn't recall going into Freddie's room last night—in fact, Roxy was almost certain she remembered falling asleep on her own bed at almost two in the morning—but now was not the time to deal with her potential new sleep-walking problem.

Stopping into her room to grab new clothes for the day—there was no way she was going out in just her pyjamas, not ever since a picture of her had shown up in The Prophet a few years back wearing bunny slippers. Lily had thought it was hilarious, but Roxy just found it mortifying, being on display for the whole wizarding population of Britain in her nightclothes.

Roxy headed into the lavatory at the end of the hall, silently passing the bedroom that belonged to her mother, wondering if she ought to wake her mum up before she left. After all, it wouldn't be nice of her to let Mum wake up in a few hours with no clue where Roxy had run off to. Mum would panic and begin owling everyone she knew—and then Roxy would get caught. Bye-bye party-girl Roxy, hello full-time employee at the family shop.

I'll leave a note, she thought to herself. On the kitchen table, so she sees it when she goes to make breakfast. Or lunch.

Angelina Weasley was no longer the early riser she had once been; at almost fifty-one years old, and after twenty-four years of professional Quidditch playing, her mum complained of a permanent sore back. Instead of getting up to run five miles as she had done only five years ago, Mum would often sleep in until almost ten.

Not that Roxy thought that the fact that her mum had given up running perfectly coincided with everything that had happened was entirely a coincidence. But she wasn't going to say anything—if Mum wanted to admit that she was sleeping more as a coping method, then that was up to her. Roxy certainly wasn't going to push her into talking, not when she had spent the better part of the last five years refusing to talk to anyone about how she was doing.

She hopped into the shower, quickly scrubbing herself down and running shampoo through her hair. On a normal day, Roxy might have spent a little more time goofing off, singing to herself or something equally silly, but today she was in a rush. She had to get out before her mum woke up and tried to stop Roxy.

Her mum probably wouldn't be pleased that Roxy was going out—today of all days especially—but Roxy was eighteen, an adult in the eyes of the Ministry. Her mum could only really do so much to keep charge of her.

Roxy smiled into the mirror as she finished brushing her hair. She had on light make-up meant to accentuate her best feature, her brown-blue eyes—it was a good thing she had so many older female cousins to teach her about applying make-up—and, blowing the reflection inside her mirror a kiss, she left the lavatory.

Jo was probably already outside, waiting impatiently for Roxy to hurry up; that was what Jo was all about, impatience. She always wanted to get to the 'next big thing' as fast as she could, instead of stopping to enjoy and explore, like Roxy.

She scribbled a hasty note explaining that she was off with Jo for the day, sticking it onto the fridge with spellotape before hurrying downstairs, where the flat melded into the joke shop, which would be staying closed for the day.

(Uncle Ron's idea, out of respect for Mum. It was still strange to imagine Uncle Ron running the shop by himself, making executive decisions about what had once been Dad's store.)

When she hurried out of the darkened shop, it was to see Jo waiting impatiently for her, tapping one foot and looking down at her watch.

"Sorry. I woke up late," and in the wrong room for some reason that I simply can't fathom. Roxy gave Jo her best smile, and her friend only rolled her eyes, grabbing Roxy's hand. The two of them disappeared from the streets of Diagon Alley with a small pop just as—upstairs in her lonely room—Angelina Weasley woke up gasping.

When the world stopped spinning for Roxy, she looked up to see a familiar flat; they were in Stoke Newington, where Mia Itterman—an older girl who was about Victoire's age—lived with her younger brother, and where wild parties were held at least once a week for the enjoyment of anyone willing to attend, regardless of what house they belonged to while at Hogwarts.

"Party's already started," Roxy noted, hearing the dull thud of music coming from Mia's flat. "Think Kieran will be here?"

"Probably," Jo said, turning her head so that Roxy didn't notice Jo's eyes darken. "But I can tell you one person who's definitely already here." She nodded in the direction of a redheaded girl who was bouncing up and down, waving eagerly at them from the doorway of Mia's flat.

Roxy grinned up at her cousin, calling out, "Hey Lils," as she and Jo headed up the stairs. Though Lily was a whole two and a half years older—as well as nearly thirteen centimetres taller—than Roxy, she acted rather childlike, grinning madly at them and swinging back and forth against the railing as the younger girls reached the top of the staircase.

"Roxy baby," Lily said, giggling. She dropped a hand over Roxy's shoulder, pulling her inside and over to a group of chairs and couches, where a few familiar faces were gathered, including Lily's boyfriend, Tolkien Smith. "You'll never believe how happy I am to see you. Like, so happy, Roxy baby. So happy."

Lily already smelled of alcohol and her walk was unsteady as she stumbled to where Tolkien was sitting, nearly collapsing into his lap. Lily giggled again as someone handed Roxy a drink.

It was still rather strange to see Lily at these sorts of events—Lily had never been much of a party-girl until a few boyfriends ago, when she had somewhat reluctantly agreed to go to a rather wild New Year's party with Roxy and her then-boyfriend, Vikram Jhingade.

(Lily had always sworn she didn't really have a type, but there was certainly one thing her boyfriends always had in common—they were older than her, every time. So far, Tolkien, at eleven months older, was the youngest.)

But ever since she and Tolkien Smith had started going out, partying was all Lily wanted to do, apparently. She had invited Roxy to four different parties so far—this was the first invitation Roxy had accepted.

So strange, when just a year ago, their positions had been reversed and Lily refused every time Roxy brought it up. Lily didn't want to party, she said, didn't want to drink and get drunk with strangers, waking up who-knows-where the next morning.

"Besides," she had told Roxy more than once. "My dad would be so disappointed if word got out that—that Lily Potter was a party girl. And my mum would kill me. I'm their little girl, I'm supposed to be sweet and innocent. Not—not ending up on the front page of The Prophet for showing everyone my knickers or something."

Now, though, the prospect of being in a newspaper didn't seem to bother Roxy's cousin very much; Lily was one of the more prominent fixtures at Mia Itterman's ragers, and from what Jo had told Roxy, Lily was a bit of a wild girl, drinking heavily and making out with Tolkien until they were both gasping for air.

"Nice to see you again, Roxy Weasley," Tolkien said with his usual smirk. Roxy waved a hand at him, not really wanting to make conversation. She'd never much cared for Tolkien Smith, but she had nothing against him either, not personally at least.

"So I hear you've got something new for us today, Smith?" Jo asked with a raised eyebrow. Tolkien nodded, leaning over to grab something from his bag nearby. Roxy heard something rattle around as he poured the contents of a flask into a small plastic cup.

"Here," Tolkien said, handing a small cup to the boy next to him. Roxy leaned forward, curious; Tolkien always brought interesting things to their parties—they'd grown tired of Butterbeer almost immediately, and at this point, nearly everyone could handle Firewhiskey without any major problems.

"What's that then, Smith?" she asked as the cup was passed around, each person taking out a small round object in their hand. Roxy looked down at her palm, inspecting what she had been given.

"Yeah what've you got for us this time?" Mia Itterman took one with some hesitation crossing her features. Though she hosted these parties every time, Mia rarely actually took part in the festivities, usually leaving the heavy drinking and partying to her younger brother.

"Psychotropics o' a sort, I think. Pinched 'em off o' Matthias Fletcher—you know, that skeevy little bastard who's always selling knock-offs o' the Elder Wand or some shit near Knockturn? Anyway, he was trying to sell me what he swore on his life was a real unicorn horn—didn't look like it to me, though, and while he was distracted haggling prices over his fake shite, I—"

"Hey, no one wants the backstory on these things, Smith. We just wanna know what they're gonna do to us when we take 'em."

"Oh." Tolkien looked down at the circular white tablet in his own hand. "Well, I'm not actually sure. Like I said, I just pinched them off o' Fletcher, I don't actually know what they do-"

"Are you fucking trying to kill someone, Smith?" Mia demanded. "You brought shit over without even finding out what it does first? How fucking stupid are you?"

"Tolkie's not stupid," Lily said defensively, patting Tolkien's knee and shooting Mia a dirty look. "I think we should try them. Sort of like an experiment."

"An experiment that could potentially kill you," Mia grumbled.

Roxy followed the argument without bothering to contribute. If the others decided not to take the drugs, she wouldn't either; if they did take them, so would she. Roxy didn't particularly care how she got buzzed, just that she did and that it was a good time.

"Most experiments could potentially kill you, if you really think about it," Jo said in that morbid yet cheery way that only she could ever really pull off. "I agree with Lily, we should at least try once before making a decision to burn Smith at the stake. I know I'll certainly regret never giving it a spin if we don't. What about you, Mia?"

"Fine," Mia replied, though she didn't look entirely pleased.

Lily clapped her hands together, looking around excitedly. "Oh goody! I'll go first then, since it was my idea." She looked down at the tablet in her hand and swallowed. One by one, the others followed suit, until it was just Roxy and Mia left.

"Don't chicken out on us now, Rox," Jo said, laughing, her eyes already going wide as the drugs took effect. "C'mon, it'll be fun, don't be a coward."

"Okay," Roxy mumbled, lifting the tablet up to her mouth and swallowing. She had no clue, really, what to expect—only that if things went wrong, she was definitely going to kill Lily's boyfriend for fucking her up.  
\---  
She is four-and-a-half, crying for Freddie to get back off the train and stay with her instead of leaving like everyone else.

She is six and Freddie is chasing her around Grandmum Weasley's Christmas tree, trying to stuff a Weasley jumper over her head.

She is eight and Freddie is tickling her as Mum brings out the cake, with the fourteen candles burning brightly on top.

She is almost ten, watching Lily and Hugo and Freddie wave good-bye from their train compartment as the train chugs out of the station.

She is nearly eleven (so close to eleven that it hurts) yelling that it isn't fair—it isn't fair it isn't fair it isn't fair you bastards—that she has to wait a whole year longer to go to Hogwarts.

She is thirteen, being hugged tightly by Dominique, who is crying so heavily that she leaves tear trains on Roxy's shirt and smears her make-up and doesn't seem very much like the Domi that Roxanne knows.

She is fourteen, and her grandmum is stroking Roxy's hair, saying how sorry she is, how unfair this has all been to Roxy and her parents.

She is fifteen, getting into fights with Matilda Longbottom and her cronies, who mock Roxy's hair and the fact that she isn't a real Weasley, like her brother.

She is eighteen, receiving her diploma, feeling those strange eyes watching her, making Roxy shudder and want to run.

She is eighteen and someone is in her dorm, someone is in her dorm.

She is eighteen and waking up in the wrong bed.

She is eighteen—she is eighteen—she is eighteen—she is…  
\---

"Roxy, are you okay? Hey, Rox, can you hear me? Rox? Rox? Seriously, this isn't fucking funny, are you okay? Rox? Hello?"

Roxanne tried sits up, groggy. Her head was spinning, her pulse was racing like she had just run from one end of Hogwarts to the other. And someone was yelling at her, shaking her, trying to get her attention. Roxy struggled to focus herself until the blurry mess of colours finally oriented itself into Jo and Mohammed Itterman, hovering over her with worried looks on their faces.

"You okay, Roxy?" Jo asked, placing a hand on Roxy's sweaty forehead. "Those drugs were wicked cool, weren't they? But they seriously fuck with your brain. I mean, I dunno what you saw, Rox, but if it was anything like what the rest of us saw—"

"What, memories of your childhood?" Roxy asked, pulling herself into a sitting position. The room had stopped spinning and she didn't feel like throwing up anymore.

Jo nodded excitedly. "You were the last one to come to. Tolkien—he says the after effects might last a little while longer, but whoa, wasn't that awesome? I mean, didn't it feel like just flash after flash? But it's already been almost two hours and—"

"What?" Roxy's eyes widen.

"Yeah, isn't that so wicked? Hey, I'm gonna go grab some food, 'kay? Mohammed can make sure you're fine while I'm gone, right Hammy?" Jo giggled before wandering off, her balance messed up as she nearly ran into a lamp.

Roxanne sat in silence for a few minutes, staring down at her hands. How had it been two hours already? She felt like she'd only gotten to the party—taken the pill from Tolkien—just a few minutes ago. But the memories—hallucinations or whatever—had been so vivid.

"You okay?" Mohammed asked her quietly, and she nodded, not wanting to concern him. After all, she'd been experimenting with drugs since the first party she'd attended at age fourteen. Though this new stuff of Tolkien's might've been a bit more than she was willing to handle, Roxy didn't want to look weak in front of everyone else.

"You know, Rox," Lily began rather suddenly from where she was sitting, tucked into Tolkien with a dazed look in her eyes. "I think he might be the one."

"Who? Tolkien?" Roxy couldn't keep herself from giggling, imagining Lily a few months or years down the road wearing a white dress, walking down the aisle to marry Tolkien Smith of all people. "What happened to a new boy every couple of months?"

"I…" Lily shrugged. "I think I'm in love with him, Roxy. I think he's the one, I really do. We love each other, you know."

"Have you ever told him that?"

"Well—no, but if you really love someone, do you have to tell them? I mean, has Kieran ever said he loves you?"

Roxy avoided making eye contact with the redhead, unwilling to admit that, though they had been dating since January, Kieran still had not said 'I love you' to her, though she had said it to him several times already.

"Exactly," Lily said smugly, attempting to cross her arms. She couldn't quite get one arm to fit under the other, though, and eventually gave up in favour of giggling again. "But I know I love him. We're destined to be together for—for forever. Like—like the stars themselves arranged that we would find each other and fall in love and…" She trailed off, a dreamy look on her face.

Roxy giggled again. "You sound like a particularly awful poem written by a lovesick teenage boy."

"Don't you believe in soulmates, Roxy?"

"Not hardly. I mean, wouldn't that mean that the universe has to—to take time out to pair up everyone who's ever lived or will live? I just…I don't think the universe cares enough about us to bother with soulmates. Hell, I don't have enough time to bother with finding a regular mate."

"So you don't think you and Kieran are destined to be?"

Roxy shrugged, again avoiding eye contact. "Nah. I mean, if he asks me to marry him—maybe in a few years, maybe I'll say yes. But I don't think any stars were 'aligned' or 'arranged' for us. We're just—we're just people, you know? Normal people."

"I agree," Mohammed said from where he was sitting, his deep voice cutting through the air as he looked over at Roxy. "Soulmates are totally overrated. However, Firewhiskey is not." He grinned, pushing himself up off the ground. "I'll be back, yeah?"

"Hey, where's Maccabee?" Tolkien called out as Mohammed stood up, and Roxy almost jumped in her seat. She turned to look at Tolkien, squished in a chair with his arm around Lily, who was grinning lazily. "Doesn't Maccabee normally come to these kinds o' things? Where the fuck is she?"

"Em's busy," said Charlie Stebbins from where she was on the floor; she had been sitting in a chair at one point, Roxy vaguely remembered, but had begun to giggle hysterically until she fell out and hadn't bothered to get up since then. "She says she's busy, at least, but really it's just that Cornfoot doesn't like her hanging out with druggies and drunks. Says it's bad for the—the—the whas's it called, that kid of hers."

Roxy wasn't feeling so giddy anymore as she sat up.

"What?" Tolkien demanded, scowling. "She's ditching us because of that shitty little snot-nose o' hers? Goddamn. Remind me never to have kids if that's what it does to you."

"Tolkie," Lily crooned into his ear. "Tolkie, forget about Maccabee, she's not important, not when I'm right here. C'mon, kiss me and forget all about that dumb girl. She's not important, she's just a grump and not even half as pretty as me, right?"

They were making out again, and Roxy averted her eyes, wishing Jo would come back soon. She hadn't wanted to be reminded of Emily Maccabee, not today, and now, with the old memories of her brother suddenly dredged up and swimming in the front of her mind from Tolkien's weird drugs, Roxy was no longer in a very party-girl mood.

She stood up, grabbing her discarded coat off of the chair—when had she taken her coat off?—stumbling forward in search of the door. Jo would understand if Roxy ditched early, wouldn't she? Besides, with Lily and Tolkien making out—she looked over to see they were now creeping towards the bedroom—no one else would really care or even notice if she left.

Roxy was right—no one said a word when she stepped out of the flat and Apparated away. No one even knew she had left until several hours later, when the party was winding down.


	5. Suffering from Parental Expectations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for mention of suicide

"Why did your parents name you Tolkien?" Roxy asked the next time they all gathered together. Tolkien had once again brought his strange new drugs—which he unimaginatively referred to as time trippers—but Roxy opted out of "tripping time" with all of the others.

She had no desire to see memories of her brother, not in her dreams, not while high. She stuck to Firewhiskey, instead. Much safer. At least Firewhiskey didn't make you remember weird shit from a dozen years ago that were better off staying forgotten. Firewhiskey hurt like a bitch going down and would hurt twice as much tomorrow morning—but that was infinitely better than being forced to recall memories she had shoved to the back of her mind.

"Eh?" Tolkien muttered, looking up from the daze he was stuck in. "Me? Dunno, really. My mum…she was—she is a half-blood, you know, even if she pretends not to be. Granddad is a muggle, and he's always been a bit o' a bookworm, and when Mum found out I was gonna be another boy he begged Mum and Dad to let him name me. I guess Tolkien was some big muggle novelist or something, back when Granddad was a kid."

"Hm." She'd never heard of a Tolkien before. Perhaps Molly—who read muggle novels quite avidly—would know who he was.

"Why'd they name you Roxanne?"

Roxy shrugged. She had never been particular to asking why, of all names, her parents had stuck her with the name Roxanne. "I know it means dawn or bright—something along those lines, but I wasn't, like, named after anybody in particular."

"Like your brother was?" Tolkien raised an eyebrow at her as Roxy froze, her drink nearly slipping to the floor. She caught it just in time to keep it from smashing. "He was, wasn't he? That's what I heard, that he was named after an uncle or something."

"Uncle Fred," Roxy whispered almost to herself. She could still remember Dad telling the story of what had happened to his brother—Roxy had been twelve, and Freddie nearly eighteen. It had been the first time Dad had ever told them anything about his brother, outside of what most people could have found from a history book.

"Oh yeah. Didn't he die in the war?"

"Yeah…he was my dad's twin brother. They—they were only twenty at the time. They ran Weasley's Wizard Wheezes together, and they were members of Dumbledore's Army while at school. Dad…" she took a deep breath, calming her nerves. "Dad said some Death Eater blew up a wall near where Uncle Percy was and Uncle Fred pushed him out of the way. Said—said Uncle Fred died laughing. He was always laughing…"

Tolkien gave her a sympathetic look. "Damn, that's harsh. I don't think we lost anyone in my family during the war, but I know it seriously messed with my mum's head. She used to have these, like, nightmares all the time, you know? O' people dying and deep shit like that? Friends o' hers, I guess. I dunno, she never talked about it with us. Said she didn't want us to be scarred like she was, not if she could prevent it."

"That sounds reasonable," Roxy muttered, remembering years ago—as a little girl not even old enough for Hogwarts—waking up to the sounds of someone crying in the other room. She had not initially realised it was her parents crying; after all, to a six or seven year old, parents are invincible superheroes who have no reason to cry about anything.

"Suppose so. But Mum was always kind o' distant when I was growing up. I used to think it was 'cause I wasn't a twin—I've got two sets of older twin brothers, you know, and a fifth brother with no twin at all, single just like I am? After a while, though, I realised she just wasn't very emotionally attached to any of us. I think—I think it was the war, honestly, that made her that way."

"Do you blame her?" Roxy took another sip of Firewhiskey, feeling the burn course through her body as if fireworks had been set off inside of her. "Sometimes I blame my mum when she acts weird about stuff, when she detaches from everything, especially me."

Tolkien looked away, rubbing at his chin. "Dunno, really. Not sure I ever cared enough to bother blaming her. I mean, I was messed up myself enough as it was. Youngest o' five boys? With a nutter for a mum and a da that was only barely doing what he could? Nah, I couldn't blame her for not caring 'nough for me. Least my parents tried to show they loved me when they were able to."

Roxy looked down at her drink thoughtfully. She wasn't sure if the same could be said for herself—was she bitter? Did she blame her parents for what the war had done to them? Perhaps…just a little, she admitted to herself. Roxy had never considered that before, being angry at them for how she had grown up.

"You okay Weasley?" Tolkien asked, leaning over to poke Roxy in the shoulder. "I swear, your whole family is just, like, spacey. Lils too—she's always getting distracted and lost in thought. Is that just a Weasley thing or what?"

"I suppose so." Roxy stood up with a sigh. "I think I'm going to get another drink. All of this—this insightful consideration or whatever is a bit too much for me. I'm definitely not smashed enough to—to consider whether or not I hate my own mum for—for something out of her control."

Tolkien nodded absently. "Hey Weasley, it's okay to hate your mum, nobody'll blame you. I think everybody does at some point or 'nother in their life. It's just a matter of separating the wrong from the right, yeah? Figuring out what they could control and what they couldn't."

"Yeah. Thanks for the advice Tolkien."

"Mhmm. That's what I'm here for Weasley. Mr Drugs and Advice Guy." He chuckled as Roxy walked off into the kitchen. "Oh, hey Weasley?" She turned to see Tolkien looking up at her. "You know Maccabee?"

"Yes." Her voice was terse though Tolkien didn't seem to notice.

"If you see her around—like, if you can get a hold o' her?" He paused, looking awkwardly down at the sleeping Lily pooled at his feet.

"What?"

"Oh, it's nothing I guess. Just tell her I said 'hello' or something like that. Tell her nobody blames her for not wantin' to come anymore. Tell her—tell her…tell her I understand, will you Weasley? Tell her I understand why." His forehead was sweaty and his cheeks flushed.

"You okay Tolkien?" Roxy peered at him curiously. She had never seen him so worked up about anything before. She hadn't even really thought Emily and Tolkien were very friendly; Roxy had certainly never heard anything about the two of them.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine Weasley, don't worry about me. Just—just tell her that the next time you see her, okay? And, uh, go enjoy yourself."

"Um…" He shrugged at her to signify that the conversation—as strange and vague as it was—had ended. "Alright, Tolkien. See you later then, I guess."

"See you, Weasley."  
\---

"You've got a letter," her mum said when Roxy stumbled into the kitchen the next morning for breakfast, still slightly hungover. "It's from the Ministry."

"What?" Roxanne paused, startled by the enthusiasm in her mum's voice. "Why's the Ministry writing to me? I haven't broken any laws yet."

"Perhaps they want to hire you," her mum replied, intentionally ignoring Roxy's last statement. "You know, I always said your brother's talents ought to be put to good use, not just Quidditch."

"Mum," Roxy protested, brow furrowing as she picked the letter up from the table, turning it over in her hands. "You played Quidditch, remember? For twenty-four bloody years."

"Yes, I remember—which is exactly why I didn't want Freddie getting so involve. I mean, the professional level is just so difficult, even if you're extremely talented—and just look at what happened to him—"

"Okay Mum. I understand, you don't want me to waste my time playing Quidditch. But I never intended to apply to a professional Quidditch team, remember? However, I also didn't ever plan on getting a job at the Ministry."

"Well what did you intend on doing, young lay? You can't loaf around all day for the rest of your life, you know. I won't allow it. No daughter of mine is going to sit at home and do nothing with herself, that's for sure."

"I was thinking of taking over the store, actually," Roxy admitted quietly. Her mum froze in her seat, half of a piece of toast still dangling from her fingers as she gaped at Roxy. "I always had fun working for the shop over the summer, and I was really good at it. Don't you think that'd be a good fit for me? It's certainly a lot more interesting that a boring office job."

"You? Run the shop?" Her mum's voice was empty of emotion. "We were going to give the shop to your brother. That's what we decided—Freddie would run the shop. Everything was supposed to be lined up by the time your father finally retired, so it would be easy for him to step down and let Freddie take his place."

Roxy sighed. "That's not an option anymore, Mum."

"Yes, I know," her mum said vacantly, drumming her fingers on the table. "But there were never any plans for you to run Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."

Roxy was annoyed; she hated the way her mum, with just a few words, managed to completely shut down everything Roxy was saying? Was Mum even listening to a thing that Roxy was saying—or was she too caught up in what was supposedto have happened? "Then what did you expect me to do? If not manage the shop, what wasthe plan for me, Mum?"

"I don't know," the older woman admitted, avoiding her daughter's gaze. "We never really thought about it. You were just so much younger, we were focused on getting Freddie's life together, you know? I suppose your father and I would have sat down with you eventually and figured something out, but at the time—"

"You were only interested in Freddie." Roxy's voice was cold as she stood up, letter still in hand. "Just like always. Just like now. You don't think about me, you don't consider me. Everything I've ever done—it's always compared to him! Always second best—to him! But guess what, Mum? I can't be the least favourite child anymore!"

"That isn't true, Roxanne!" her mother protested, standing up as well, the kitchen chair scraping noisily across the tile. "I loved you and your brother equally. I always have. It may have seemed like we paid him a little more attention, but that was only because he was older than you and we had to get things decided for him—"

"I really don't care Mum, I really don't." Roxy could feel her blood pumping in her head as she avoiding her mum's gaze. Even while screaming at her, Roxy couldn't help but feel guilty for lashing out. She didn't mean to be rude, it was just—it was just that she wanted her mum to hurt more than Roxy was hurting at that moment.

"Where are you going Roxanne?" her mother demanded.

"I'm taking a nap. Arguing with you about how I'm going to run mylife is absolutely exhausting and I don't want to do it anymore."

She stomped off, stuffing the letter into the bin on her way out. Roxy could hear her mum still protesting from the kitchen, but only rolled her eyes and kept going down the hallway. Her mum could argue all she like that she had no favourites, but that didn't mean it was true. Roxy had always seen the way her parents treated her differently from Freddie—giving him more freedom, more choice to do what he wanted.

Her mum could say she didn't love Freddie more than Roxy, but her mum could also lie fairly well when she needed to.

Roxy woke from her nap to find herself on the floor. She groaned, sitting up, and then groaned again. She was in Freddie's room—an occurrence that was becoming obnoxiously regular. She knew she was falling asleep in her own room—she knew she was!—yet she kept waking up on the floor of Freddie's bedroom.

This was the fifth time in two weeks that Roxy opened her eyes to find herself in her older brother's room with no explanation. She couldn't understand why that was; Roxy had never been the sort to sleep walk before now, and she couldn't understand her apparent fixation with Freddie's room either.

He's been gone for five years now. Get over it.

"Roxanne? What're you doing in here?" Roxy glanced up to see her mum in the doorway, holding a basket of laundry twice her width. She could see the exhaustion in her mum's eyes, the strain that holding the basket seemed to be.

When had my mother gotten old? When had she begun to grow weak? Roxy was startled by the obvious signs of aging in her mother, a woman whom Roxy had always seen as being almost eternally youthful.

"Oh, sorry Mum," Roxy mumbled, getting to her feet, the Puddlemere blanket sliding off of her shoulders. "I guess I just, uh…wrong room, I guess." She laughed nervously, moving to push past her mother, who continued to block the doorway. "Just wasn't thinking, you know me."

"It's not changed at all, has it? Five years and it hasn't changed at all." Mum looked around the room wistfully. "All of his old posters, his books from Hogwarts." She stepped into the room with a longing look in her eyes, as though seeing the boy who had once lived in this room.

"Yeah, Mum, that's sort of what happens when nobody comes in here for five years, not even to clean or anything. Nothing changes about it. I mean, if I were gone—"

"Don't say that." Her mum's eyes flashed darkly. "Don't you ever say that again Roxanne. If you—if you left me as well, after everything that's happened…"

"Sorry Mum. I was only just saying, you know? I mean, you've not come in here for five years either, so I'm not really sure what else you were expecting. The only thing that's changed is that there's more dust than there used to be. What were you expecting to see?"

"I dunno." Mum looked down at the laundry. "I just…every time I walk by, I almost expect him to come out of there and smile at me, like he's just been fiddling around at something for a few hours. Like he'll ask me when dinner is and everything will be back to normal and you're father was still—" Her face froze.

"I'm sorry Mum," Roxanne said hurriedly, as the basket crashed to the floor, recently dried garments spilling across the carpet. "Mum I didn't mean to upset you, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make you think about that stuff."

Her mum began crying silently, tears rolling down her dark cheeks and Roxy hugged her mother tightly, still apologising. She hadn't expected her mum to have such a poor reaction—it had been years, and her mum had never been much of a crier, but…seeing the tears that stained her mother's face, Roxy's stomach churned.

"I didn't mean to upset you Mum, really I didn't."

"It's okay Roxanne," Mum replied, sniffling slightly. She pushed Roxy away gently, looking down at her daughter with a watery smile. "I guess it is a little silly of me to be crying now. It…it has been four years now, hasn't it? I suppose I was just still a bit upset from our argument this morning, and then seeing his room for the first time since—"

"Yeah." Roxy breathed in deeply. "Look, I'm sorry for yelling at you this morning Mum, I really am. I shouldn't have yelled at you or—or gotten mad, it was just that…well, I'm not really the Ministry type, now am I?"

Her mum laughed, shaking her head. "I don't know what I was thinking. You in the Ministry? Kingsley would go into apoplectics having to deal with you every day. You'd always be asking questions, getting into things, making messes. The Ministry would go haywire."

Roxy smiled back at her mother, but the only thing she really wanted to do was grab another Firewhiskey and owl Jo to see if she wanted to hang out anywhere but here. "Coping mechanisms" the Healers had called it when Roxy's mum had taken her in to talk about everything that had happened. Roxy "avoided issues", she "shut down" whenever one of them wanted to ask her things. They said she was too upset to deal with the grief at that moment—that she'd open up eventually and tell everyone all of her problems, but that was yet to happen.

She just wasn't a very open person; Roxy didn't see the point in crying about everything, in breaking down and blubbering like a baby just because…

And her mum usually wasn't any different. That was probably where Roxy had gotten her "coping mechanism" from, her mum. She could easily recall the awkward summer after her father's funeral, when it had just been the two of them in the flat.

Anne had been the one to take over the shop—she had, after all, worked at the Diagon Alley location even before Roxy was born. Mum hadn't even bothered to negotiate or look for anyone else, perhaps in the family. She had just signed the necessary paperwork to promote Anne to practically in charge, like she could so easily replace Dad.

Roxy had avoided going into the shop all summer, instead choosing to take the front door, which lead directly into the street. She had only been fourteen—nearly fifteen—but Mum had been too distracted to really notice when Roxy left in the early morning and came home long after what should have been dinner time.

But it hadn'tbeen dinner time, because Dadwas the one who cooked everything and people had long ago stopped bothering to bring by meals with a side of condolences. She got most of her food from the Leaky Cauldron, because Mrs Longbottom pitied Roxy.

Once, before her father had died and her mum had shut down, Roxy might have resented Mrs Longbottom for the obvious pity, the I'm-so-sorry in her voice every time she came over with a shepherd's pie or a casserole. But Roxy had grown too hungry to bother getting angry.

Later, by late July, she had received an invitation from an older student to one of Mia Itterman's regular get-togethers. It wasn't the first time she'd ever had Butterbeer, but those parties were her first taste of Firewhiskey, her first time experimenting with the weird things that the older party-goers brought in for everyone to try.

It was the first time since April that she had found someone who didn't look at her as Freddie Weasley's little sister, or George and Angelina Weasley's daughter. She was just Roxanne before— but now she was Roxy, the wild party-girl who drank too much and danced too wildly.

The parties were where she found her first boyfriend—and later on, where she had caught him making out with another girl. They were where she finally decided to stop feeling ashamed about being a Slytherin, because she was surrounded by Slytherins, or at least people who couldn't care less what house she was in because they were all too busy having a good time.

"What are you thinking about Roxanne?" her mum asked, pulling Roxy back to the present, where she was eighteen and staring into her mother's teary eyes. "You had that far-away look again, like you get whenever you're thinking particularly hard."

"Mm." Roxy couldn't admit to her mother the truth. Though Mum knew that Roxy was sometimes more wild that she wanted, Roxy had never told her mother about the endless parties, the experimenting, the wild behaviour with boys ten years older than her. "I was just…thinking about Dad, I guess. About what he'd think about us having a good cry in Freddie's bed with an overturned basket of clothes at our feet."

"He'd probably laugh at me," Mum said with a chuckle. "Start making jokes about everything. That's what he—what he used to do. Everything was funny to him. That's why he was so good in the shop, because as far as he was concerned, anything could be turned into a joke."

"Yeah." Roxy pulled herself away, leaning over to grab some trousers off the floor. "Here, let me help you."

"Thanks." Her mum also began picking up clothes, tossing them into the basket. "He would have been proud of you, Roxanne, you know that, right?"

Roxy started, avoiding her mother's gaze. "What do you mean? Proud of what?"

"How mature you've gotten. How smart and beautiful you are. He was so excited when you were born. We—we hadn't found out the gender beforehand, not with either one of you, because we wanted it to be a surprise. When they told him you were a girl…"

"Mum?" Something bad, something she should never ask came to mind just then; she knew she oughtn't say anything, but she couldn't keep her mouth shut. She'd never really known how to keep her questions to herself.

"Yes Roxanne?"

"If Dad loved me so much, why did he kill himself?"


	6. If this is what adulthood is

Roxy stared across the table at Jo in shock as the other girl finished wringing water from her hair. "I'm sorry, would you mind repeating that last bit?"

"I got a job," Jo repeated with a grin. "At the Ministry of Magic in the Department of Magical Transportation. I'm working in the Apparition testing centre, and they said if I stay around for at least five years, I'll be able to do actual testing."

"Right." Roxy nodded weakly, taking a sip of her drink. They were sitting in The Spellman's Pub, rather close to one of the large windows that allowed a good view of the pavement. Roxy watched as witches and wizards bustled by outside. "Right. You got a job at the Ministry. The one place we said we'd never gets jobs at."

"Oh don't be silly Rox," Jo said, laughing. "There were plenty of places we said we'd never work at. But Mum's been threatening to kick me out if I don't find some way of making money and, well, I was always really interested in Apparition, so I figured why not? It's a lot more interesting than, say, studying the thickness of cauldron bottoms."

She shed her wet robes, setting them down on the floor near the fireplace, which crackled merrily despite it being nearly twenty-seven degrees outside. It had been raining all morning, part of the reason why Roxy had owled Jo and invited her out to lunch. Mum was being absolutely irritating, bothering Roxy about going out and getting a job.

"You seem shocked Rox. How long did you think we'd make it if we never bothered getting jobs? Even a couple of wild, rebellious party-girls like ourselves need an income, you know. Besides, isn't Kieran trying to be an Auror? That's totally conformist Ministry lackey of him wouldn't you say? Yet I don't hear you complaining."

"Well—that's—it's just—it's different!" Roxy spluttered, making Jo laugh even harder. Roxy felt her ears burn and swept her hair forward, hoping it would hide the flush of pink across her cheeks.

"Mum's been an absolute loon, though. Ever since I graduated, every bloody day, pestering me to get out of the house, to go look for a job. She says I'm, well, a loafer and she's had enough of that sort of behaviour from my older siblings." Jo smirked and rolled her eyes. "I guess she thinks I'm going to be like Micky, still living at home even though he's thirty."

Jo had two older brothers and a sister, all of whom had gone to Beauxbatons, like their mother; Jo was the youngest, as well as the first to attend Hogwarts after getting into an argument with her mum about going to a proper British school, like a proper British girl.

Her oldest brother, Michael, was lazy, regularly sleeping until the late afternoon and then frequenting pubs, wizard and muggle alike, until he got kicked out for harassing the staff. He seemed to have no intention of ever getting a job, instead choosing to live off what his parents gave him; Jo thought his behaviour was at least admirable.

"I dunno what my mum thinks," Roxy said, as a waitress stopped by to take their orders. "I mean, she has prodded me a bit about going to look for employment, but I think she's fine with me staying at home for now. At least I'm not like my cousin Domi."

"Isn't that the one who ran off?"

"Yeah. And no one really knows why or where she went, but they found her in the Thames a few years back—or, someone who looks like her. Uncle Bill's still not sure it's really her. I dunno, personally. If she drowned, or if she moved out of the country, you know, it's all sort of the same in the end. She's not here anymore."

"So you weren't particularly close, then?" Jo tilted her head thoughtfully.

"Not really. I mean, she was nearly seven years older than me—the perfect student type, a Ravenclaw. She was really shocked, actually, when she heard where I got sorted, even more than most of my family, because she didn't think I was 'the evil sort'." Roxy shrugged at Jo's scoff. "We didn't talk much after that, and then she disappeared a few months later."

"Mm." Jo glanced out the window, where the rain had picked up, pelting against the roof and making those who had previously been milling about outside take cover wherever they could find it. "Well, you know my mum didn't really know what Slytherin meant, and my dad's a muggle, so I guess there was never really an issue for me about that."

Outside, two young kids—not even Hogwarts age yet—danced around, splashing in puddles and getting thoroughly soaked; Roxy giggled until a scowling woman stepped out from one of the shops to yell at the two, grabbing them both by the collars and dragging them inside.

"You've definitely got the easier home life," Roxy agreed with a sigh. "People have been asking me for years for discounts at the shop—or what it likes to be the daughter of Angelina Weasley, or the nephew of the great Harry Potter. I get recognised on the street sometimes—recognised! I've caught at least a few numbskull reporters even trying to sneak a picture of me. It's ridiculous; there is no privacy at all."

"Hey, it can't be all bad, right? I mean, you knew about all that modern history stuff years before the rest of us, and—"

"I wish. My parents refused to tell me anything. Dad always said I was too young to know—and then, after, Mum just didn't want to talk about it. And my older cousins weren't too keen about saying much either."

Jo gave Roxy a shocked look. "I would've thought at least Lily?" Roxy shook her head. "Wow. And here I thought she loved you. But doesn't your family, like, get free seats at Quidditch matches all the time? Plus, you live, like, right over the coolest shop ever. I bet you get free merchandise—I bet you get to see stuff that the public doesn't for months!"

"I guess." Roxy sighed again. "But still, I'd like to be able to hang out in public without people coming up to talk to me because they saw me in The Prophet a few weeks ago, or because they knew someone in my family and wanted to say—"

"Hey, aren't you Roxanne Weasley?" the waitress interrupted as she brought over their meals; Roxy groaned, head dropping to the table and Jo laughed.  
\---

After their meal—which, luckily, contained no more curious strangers interested in her personal life—Roxy and Jo decided to head back to the shop to see if their help was needed; it was July, after all, and one of the part-timers, Eddie, had quit a few days ago. Anne was probably drowning in customers while she struggled to find someone to take his place.

"Hey Rox," her cousin said, grinning at the two girls as they entered the shop. "And, um, Bartley, right?"

"Yep." Jo rolled her eyes at James' charming smile; she had never been particularly impressed by him at school, and seemed even less wooed by the fact that he was currently dating an old classmate of her sister's; sources said she was a boyfriend-stealing bitch. "Joanna Bartley."

"What're you doing here James?" Roxy asked, jumping in before James and Jo started bickering. "We haven't seen you around the shop in—uh, in a while. Were you starting to miss Anne?" Roxy smirked at the look of distaste on James' face. "Or did Puddlemere finally come to their senses and fire you, so now you need a job and you knew we'd be the only ones to hire the likes of you?"

"Thanks for the boost of confidence Rox," James replied. "But no, I was actually hoping to find Lily here. She was buzzing around my flat a few days ago and now some of my stuff's missing."

"You think Lily—your own sister—burgled you?" Jo raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you Potters supposed to be, like, extremely rich? If she needed something, she could just go buy it, right? And besides, what would you have that she could possibly want?"

"Er, well," James rubbed the back of his head nervously. "They weren't exactly my things, per se. the things that've gone missing belong to Camille. Jewellery and the like. And I don't think Lils took them—but Camille's having an absolute fit right now, accusing pretty much everyone who's stopped by in the past week of taking them."

"Lovely girl you've gotten yourself Potter," Jo muttered. "I can see why boys like her so much, what with her winning personality and all."

"Camille's nice enough once you've gotten to know her. She can be, er, very charming when she wants to be. And besides that, she's got—"

"Tits."

"Oi!" Roxy said loudly, laughing nervously. "Come on now, let's focus on James' issue and not his girlfriend." She turned to James, hoping he'd drop the subject and stop glaring down at Jo. "Why would Lily have any reason to take Camille's jewellery? I thought she wasn't very big on fancy stuff like that—Lils has always struck me as more of a jeans and tees sort of girl. She wouldn't have any real incentive to take anything."

"Right," James replied heavily, running his hands through his hair. "But Camille thinks that Lily's taking her stuff and, uh, selling it off for her, er, drug problem?" James wrinkled his nose, clearly in disbelief that his baby sister would ever have anything to do with drugs. Jo smirked. "She's under the impression that Lily and that boy of hers'—Smith—are burgling everything away bit by bit to afford all the drugs and drink that he's so notorious for abusing."

Shit, Roxy thought to herself. Was it possible that Lily and Tolkien were pinching stuff from James' girlfriend? She had noticed that the two of them seemed to be paying a lot more frequently for the endless parade of drinks that were needed to support their parties. That money had to come from somewhere—and it couldn't have been from the Potter vault, because then Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny would have found out and blown up over the whole thing.

"There's no way," she said out loud. "That's not like Lily. She's not—she's not into drugs. And, uh, Tolkien's been getting clean, I think I heard recently. Y'know, being with Lily and all has probably helped him see how much better it is to be sober, so…"

Jo was struggling to keep it together, her mouth twitching so much that she had to cover it with her sleeve to keep James from noticing.

"Mm." James looked around the shop, taking in all the customers milling about, and sighed quietly. "I suppose you're right. Lily's always been a good girl. Much more well behaved than Al or I have ever been. She might have a, ah, questionable choice in boyfriends, but she's a good kid. I'll make Camille see sense. Thanks Rox."

"Any time James," Roxy replied, waving as James wandered out of the shop. She looked over at Jo, who began laughing hysterically as the bell chimed, the door clicking shut behind Roxy's cousin. "Oh stuff it Jo. It's not that funny."

"'Lily's always been a good girl,'" Jo said in imitation of James, laughing so hard that she was nearly crying. "'And Tolkien's been getting clean!' Merlin, Rox, you're hysterical. The day Tolkien Smith goes clean is the day I'll be elected for Minister of Magic." She continued to laugh wildly, wiggling her eyebrows at Roxy.

Finally, Roxy couldn't keep it together any longer either, and she laughed as well, pressing her hands into her eyes at the thought of what her uncle and aunt would think if they ever found out the truth about their precious little girl.

When they had finally calmed, Roxy looked over at Jo, a thought occurring to her suddenly. "Jo?" she asked hesitantly, not quite certain she wanted to hear an honest answer. "If you're going to start working now—like, really working, I mean—does that mean you'll stop coming to the parties with me? Because Kieran dropped them as soon as we graduated, and I'll be all alone if you leave me as well."

Jo frowned. "I—I dunno, really. I mean, I hadn't really considered how much time I'll have to put in—it's a lot of filing and checking identities and writing up reports, at least in the beginning, and I'll probably be expected to do quite a bit, since I'll be the 'new girl'…" Jo shrugged. "Maybe this is a sign Rox. Maybe we should stop going to those dumb parties. I mean, the only ones really left are people still in Hogwarts who want to seem cool, or—or low-lives like Tolkien Smith. If we ever want to be successful, well, it'll be smart of us to stop while we're ahead, you know?"

It was not what Roxy had wanted to hear.

"Hey Roxanne!" she heard someone call from across the store, and turned to see Anne waving at her from the register. "Roxanne! Roxanne, come here for a minute, will you?"

"C'mon Jo, we might as well see what she wants," Roxy muttered, frowning. Hearing that she was being dumped in the same category as try-hard students and has-been young adults was bad enough—now Anne had to bother her as well?

They wandered over to where Anne was bustling about the front desk, serving one customer after another, all with a serious smile on her face. Roxy didn't think Anne could crack a real smile, or even a joke. It was amazing that she had chosen—of all places—a joke shop to work at, but even Roxy couldn't deny that Anne was at least bloody brilliant at running the store.

"Yeah Anne?"

"Oh thank goodness! We are absolutely swamped here. Would you mind asking your mum to come down here to help me run through inventory? I'd go up there myself, but she doesn't seem to like me very much—I'm not sure why, I didn't think I'd ever done much to insult her." Anne frowned, looking thoughtful before continuing. "Also Jacob says he might be gone by August—something about possibly getting signed on at his father's place—and we still haven't replaced Eddie, so I'm really going to need her to work through some resumes with me so we can find someone good enough to replace them. And I was thinking that maybe we ought to move Katie to strictly the ground floor, she keeps setting off the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder upstairs—"

"Anne?" Roxy interrupted, making Anne furrow her brow. "You want me to get my mum to come down here? Into the shop? The shop that she hasn't stepped foot into since my father's funeral?"

"Oh. Hm. Yes, you're right, I hadn't considered that." Anne sighed, like Angelina Weasley's decision to avoid the shop for the past four years was little more than a hindrance. "Well, I suppose I could always go up to the flat and talk to her then. If you wouldn't mind being a middleman of sorts for me? Arranging a time with her? That'd be great."

With that, Anne turned back to her work without even waiting for a response from Roxy, who only rolled her eyes. That was how Anne had always been—she talked and talked until she was done and then she left, expecting everyone else to fulfil her desires no matter what.

"Sure Anne, that'd be no problem at all," Roxy muttered sarcastically while Jo giggled quietly. Roxy respected Anne, or at least she tried to, but the older woman drove Roxy absolutely mad with her absurd tendencies sometimes.

They wandered away from the front of the shop once again after Jo complained that she was feeling a bit claustrophobic with all the kids running around. Unfortunately, there was nowhere that was very quiet, and with the rain still coming down heavily outside, their only real option left was to head upstairs to where Roxy and her mum lived.

"Haven't been here in a while," Jo said with forced casualty. Mum did not entirely approve of Jo, with her tattoo and piercings; while Mum had never expressly said Jo was not welcome, she had always made the flat feel awkward if Jo ever came over. The last time had been for only a few hours in their fourth year.

"Well, she's not home right now, so I think we're fine."

"Does your mum know?" Jo asked as they climbed up the stairs, the curtain that separated shop from home swinging shut behind them. "About the letter?"

"No." Roxy didn't look at Jo as she unlocked the door, ushering her friend inside. "And I don't think I'm going to tell her any time soon. She was already so eager about me getting into an internship at the Ministry when we got that letter. Mum's better off not hearing about this one either."

The letter was an invitation from Henrik's Potions, a highly prestigious potions company that supplied St Mungo's with most of their various potions and creams, as well as having a near-monopoly on the creation of Veritaserum for the Auror department. To even be considered by them was honour enough.

And it wasn't like Roxy wasn't interested in possibly interning there—she had spoken to several high-up officials who were employed there, as well as her cousin Rose, who had worked for Henrik's for nearly three years now—but she just didn't feel right.

Sure, she had ranked first in Potions every single year at Hogwarts; sure, she had tutored other students who were struggling with Potions class. But that didn't necessarily mean she'd be any good in a professional environment. With her wild hair, bright and out-there clothes, and heavy scowl, Roxy wasn't exactly the usual sort that Henrik's tended to employee.

Rose was more of Henrik's type—Head Girl, a prefect for two years, second in her class only behind Kinsley Cornfoot, Rose was one of those perfect girls that mums loved to brag about. Not to mention that Rose was so professional and adult-like. At twenty-two, she was already married to her long-time girlfriend and was looking to adopt soon. In short, Rose was very nearly everything that Roxy could never be.

So, no, Roxy hadn't mentioned the letter to her mum; she was too afraid her mum would try to push Roxy into trying to get a job there, and then they would realise that she wasn't any good—or at least not good enough for them—and she would be kicked out. And her mum would be so disappointed, as she always was whenever a letter had been sent home because Roxy had gotten another detention for talking back or fighting.

"You'll want to tell her eventually though, won't you Rox? I mean, if I practically had a job just lined up for me, I'd jump at the chance to accept it," Jo said, throwing herself across the couch, grinning lazily up at Roxy.

The smaller girl only shrugged. She was confident—mostly—but the idea of going out to get a job, a real job, was simply just too 'adult' for Roxy. "I suppose. But I don't have a job 'lined up for me'. It's just an internship for a year—and they could kick me out of the program at any moment, if they wanted to. It barely pays anything. And besides—"

"Oh stuff it," Jo said, chuckling. "Just write 'em back, say you're interested, and try it out. If you don't like it, then flip the bloody old codgers off and leave. But if you do like it, and I seriously suspect you will, then you'll find yourself with an awesome job with a fancy title and a tidy income in no time. Matilda Longbottom will cry rivers every night in jealousy."

Roxy grinned at her friend. "I suppose you're right. It would be nice to have something to shove in stupid Longbottom's face for once. I mean, she's top class and you know where I heard she's working right now?"

"Where?"

"Very nearly as a glorified secretary for Flourish and Blotts. She takes orders and owls them out to customers." Roxy smirked at the thought of her school rival working tediously every day at a monotonous job with little to offer her. "At least, even when Henrik's finally kicks me out, I'll have something of merit to put on my resume."

"That's the spirit," Jo replied. "Self-hating at best spirit, but spirit nonetheless! You'll be perfect! They'll love you. I mean, who wouldn't? They'd be stupid to fire you, honestly. Now all you have to do is tell your mum."

"Tell me what?"

Roxy whirled around to see her mum bustling through the doorway with an armful of supplies, a tired smile on her face. "Well?" she asked, looking from Roxy to Jo and back, the smile shifting to a look of confusion. "Tell me what?"


	7. When you're the youngest

_"Well?" she asked, looking from Roxy to Jo and back, the smile shifting to a look of confusion. "Tell me what?" ___

__"Mum!" Roxy gasped; Angelina wasn't supposed to be home for another hour, at least. "I thought you were with Aunt Katie! What're you doing home so early?" Her voice rose half an octave in shock and she stared up at her mother, struggling to formulate proper sentences. "We weren't doing anything!"_ _

__"Oh yeah Rox, totally smooth. I bet she definitely believes you now," Jo muttered under her breath; Roxy smacked her on the arm, giving her mother a nervous half-smile._ _

__"Roxanne?" Mum looked over the two girls with a furrowed brow as she set her purse down on a spare chair. "You two are acting very strangely. Is everything alright? There aren't any—any boys here, are there Roxanne? You know how I feel about that sort of stuff while I'm not around."_ _

__This made Jo smirk, so Roxy hit her again for good measure. "No boys Mum, I swear. It's just me and Jo. In fact, we only just got up here from the shop. Uh—Anne!" Jo and Angelina jumped slightly at the force of Roxy's yelp. "Anne wants to talk to you, I almost forgot all about it! Important, er, business-type things that she says need to be discussed. Super soon and the like, you know how those things are—if you don't jump on them soon, you'll never catch up. So—so you should, uh, totally go talk to her, like, right now, you know? So you don't, uh, get behind."_ _

__"Anne can wait, I think." Her mum glanced at the door that led to their shop uneasily. "I only just got home, after all, and I'm sure Anne would respect me taking a breather before I discuss business with her. Besides," Mum said with a small grin, "she's much too serious for me to hold her opinion very much credit."_ _

__"Same, Mrs W," Jo mumbled from the couch, one hand flopping dramatically across her forehead. "Same."_ _

__"Shut up Jo," Roxy grumbled before turning to her mother once more. "But why'd you come home so soon? Is Aunt Katie okay? Are Leanne and the babies okay?" Leanne was Roxy's not-by-blood cousin, the older daughter of her mum's friends, Katie and Lee Jordan. She was almost four months pregnant with twins._ _

__Despite the five year age difference between the girls, Roxy and Leanne had always been close when they were younger, but now that Leanne was twenty-four and starting her own family, Roxy felt like Leanne was beginning to see her in the same way that most of her cousins were, as a little girl who was still too immature to be trusted._ _

__But that didn't mean that Roxy didn't still care about her "cousin"; she wrote to Leanne frequently to ask for advice on a range of topics—homework, boyfriends, impending adulthood, and even how to deal with Roxy's mum, whom Roxy felt was only hovering more often now that Roxy was getting older. And Leanne always caught Roxy up on her own life, of course._ _

__"Yes, everything's fine Roxanne, there's no need to worry about them. Although you'd have a hard time convincing Colin of that, from the way he's always anxiously hovering over Leanne like she might give birth at any moment!" Colin Creevey—Leanne's husband, and perpetually nervous about nearly everything._ _

__"Hey Mrs W, can I have some tea while I'm hear? Roxy's always going on about what great tea you make," said Jo, grinning widely; Roxy went to hit her again, but Mum nodded, smiling widely as she invited them to follow after her._ _

__"What are you doing?" Roxy hissed at her friend while her mum bustled about the kitchen, making three cups of what she promised was "the best tea you'll ever have, guaranteed!" "I've told you my mum is shit at making anything."_ _

__"Oh come on, she can't be too bad," Jo whispered back. "Besides, I haven't been here in ages—might as well milk this visitation for as long as I can."_ _

__"It's your funeral," muttered Roxy as Mum came over to the table with the tea, which even smelt off, not at all like Grandmum's tea, which smelt of rosemary and tasted wonderful—Grandmum could cook and bake and do all sorts of motherly things that Roxy's mum had never picked up on. Sometimes, Roxy did wonder if the mothering gene had completely passed her mum over in favour of giving her incredibly skill in Quidditch and interfering with Roxy's life._ _

__Roxy winced but smiled at her mother, taking one of the cups from her. Roxy didn't think now was quite the time to get into just how bad Mum was at food and drinks—the woman could probably burn water if she tried hard enough—but if Mum attempted to make them supper, then Roxy would be putting her foot down._ _

__She didn't want to poison Jo._ _

__"I'm going to grab the mail," said Mum, leaving the two girls to awkwardly sip their tea and grimace at each other._ _

__"I was wrong. This is shit. Absolute shit." Jo scowled down at her drink. "I didn't think it was possible to ruin tea any more than the Americans already have, but I was wrong. I was incredibly wrong. Merlin's pants, how can your mum not taste the absolute crap quality?"_ _

__Roxy only gave her friend an I-told-you-so glance, not feigning sympathy in the slightest. She tipped some of her drink out of the open window, letting it spill into the alleyway below. "I keep telling her not to cook anymore, but she never listens to me."_ _

__Roxy and Jo swapped stories for a few minutes—Roxy groaning about years of burnt roasts and dry-as-a-bone cakes, and Jo complaining about the number of potions her mother had blown up in her attempts to find the perfect cure to looking young._ _

__"What is this Roxanne?" her mum asked, coming back into the kitchen, the Henrik's internship letter in her hands. "Why haven't I seen this before? It looks like an internship invitation. Where did you get invited to join—" she squinted down at the name. "Henrik's Potions Co.?" Mum went quite for a moment._ _

__"Mum, I was going to tell you! Honestly I was, but I didn't know how to say what I wanted to without making a mess of things and—"_ _

__"Oh Roxanne!" Her mum moved to hug her as Jo looked awkwardly away from the two. "I'm so proud of you! I was honestly starting to get worried that no one had owled yet. You know, your brother received all sorts of invitations from plenty of prestigious positions as well—"_ _

__"Yes Mum, I know," Roxy grumbled darkly._ _

__Mum didn't seem to notice as she continued. "—but he was never invited to intern at Henrik's! I've heard a lot of good news from Rose, she says they're every bit as grand as their reputations would have you think. Oh, this is great news Roxanne! Of course you'll be writing them right away to say yes! This is such an honour—do you know how many people they invite every year? Only five! Five from the whole wizarding world and my Roxanne was one of them!"_ _

__"I was actually thinking about telling them no, to be honest," Roxy said quietly, looking down at her tea; she didn't want to meet her mother's eyes, not when Roxy could clearly hear the excitement and enthusiasm in Mum's voice. Mum clearly could see nothing wrong with Roxy writing off to say yes to Henrik's._ _

__"So let me get this straight Roxanne. You received a letter from Henrik's Potions Co.—a company highly praised for its quality potions. A company where you would not only excel, but where you would be able to make a name for yourself. And you're telling me that you're turning them down? Are you mad or just stupid?" Her mother was shrieking, her cheeks a dark red from anger._ _

__"I ought to be going now," said Jo, clearly uncomfortable as she leapt from her seat, nearly upsetting her cup. "I think my mum's expecting me soon and—oh look! It's nearly seven in the evening, I'm sure she's gotten worried by now!"_ _

__"Perhaps you ought to walk Jo out then Roxanne," Mum said icily, reaching across the table to grab the plates and cups, not even giving Roxy a chance to respond. Roxy watched at her mum bustled over to the sink, slamming everything into soapy water and scowling._ _

__She knew it was probably smartest to not talk back—if her mum was cleaning the muggle way, it meant she was furious._ _

__"I'll see you later, okay?" Roxy told Jo as she led her friend out of the flat. Jo gave her a sympathetic look, but Roxy only shook her head. "She's may be upset, but even my mum has to realise that I'm eighteen-and-a-half. She can't control what I do with my life."  
\---_ _

__Her mum didn't speak to Roxy for nearly three days—not after an hour's worth of screaming and throwing and threats between the two of them that ended with a surly and silent dinner of undercooked pasta._ _

__But at ten-thirty in the morning that Sunday, Mum dropped by, knocking on Roxy's door to inform her that she needed to get dressed—now—and that she ought to do something with her hair. "Look presentable for once in your life."_ _

__"Why?"_ _

__"It's Sunday. Sunday means dinner at your grandparents, no exceptions. And I won't have you embarrassing us like always by being late, so I want you to get off of your bed and go get ready. We're leaving at a quart to noon and no later, do you hear me, young lady?"_ _

__Roxy rolled eyes but nodded and stood up to take a quick shower and brush her teeth; an hour and a half later, she was standing in front of the fireplace, listening to her mum rant about how they were late—but that was never any surprise—and couldn't Roxy find something more appropriate than a jumper to wear?_ _

__"Do you want us to run behind even more than we already are?" Roxy retorted. Her mum scowled, but tossed a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace._ _

__"Let's go. Your grandmother is probably going into apoplectics trying to figure out why we're not there yet. The Burrow!" and with that, Mum had disappeared into the green flames._ _

__"Doubt it," grumbled Roxy to herself as she followed after her mum, dropping her own handful of powder and shouted, "the Burrow!" as well, remembering to tuck in her elbows and keep her eyes shut, lest she throw up._ _

__Dinner was mostly a fairly normal affair, with Rose and James bickering at each other across the table while Lily gushed about Tolkien to anyone who would listen—a change in behaviour that amused many of the adults who had listened to years of Lily swearing she would never fall in love with anyone, and each of whom had promised Lily that her opinion would change when she found "the one"._ _

__Sitting quietly in his seat—suspiciously quiet for a four year old—Teddy and Victoire's eldest, Remus, giggled as his father fed him bites of potato, pretending they were little broomsticks as Teddy placed each forkful in his son's mouth._ _

__Louis and Hugo discussed the potential of a dragon reserve opening somewhere in Britain, which had been a desire of Louis' for years so that he could be closer to the family, instead of having to use Portkeys to travel back and forth between home and the dragon reserve in Romania._ _

__Albus made faces at Roxy from across the table; Victoire got up three separate times to take care of her eleven month old son, William; Molly bragged about how she was being promoted—again—at work, which made Lucy roll her eyes and pretend to choke herself._ _

__The adults took turns discussing politics of some incredibly boring nature that Roxy couldn't bring herself to even pretend to care about, so she only continued to enjoy her food, enjoying every single minute that passed without some big "family interruption" of some sort that almost always seemed to accompany these dinners._ _

__Roxy had never understood why her grandmother was so insistent on Sunday dinners as a family; more often than not, they ended in arguments and storming out and slammed doors._ _

__Grandmum would sigh and say she ought to have expected as much, and Roxy would cross her fingers in the hopes that this would finally be the end of the weekly family dinners—yet the following Sunday, Mum would rush Roxy into wearing something "appropriate for family" and usher the scowling teen over to their fireplace, complaining that they'd be late—again._ _

__Family dinners also seemed to be the catalyst for a lot of important "family announcements". It was at a dinner that Teddy and Victoire had announced their engagement—to absolutely no one's surprise. It was at a dinner Uncle Ron had announced his decision to switch from an Auror to running the joke shop with Roxy's dad. And it had been at a family dinner that Dominique had run away, screaming that no one understood how she felt._ _

__So it really shouldn't have shocked her as much that it was at a family dinner that her grandmum announced that and Grandpa were planning on taking a month off to travel around the world for their sixtieth anniversary, and that they would most likely need someone to look after the house for them while they were gone._ _

__"Mostly it's just a simple job. You know, water the plants, de-gnome the garden, dust and sweep up, make sure no one tries to break through the wards—though with Harry and Teddy on so many missions out-of-country all the time, I'm sure that means there's hardly any real danger here at home! We wouldn't even mind if you went down the muggle village every now and then. The only real request we have is that you stay at the house over-night and such."_ _

__"Well, I certainly can't do it," Rose pronounced haughtily. "Han and I are just too busy with all the various forms and meetings right now—I have to be around a mobile at all times at the moment, in case an agency calls us."_ _

__"I'm not available either. Too much practise lately, and we're probably going out-of-country soon enough as it is." James was barely comprehensible around the mouthful of food that he was still eagerly chewing. Roxy gave him a disgusted look, wondering for the millionth time why she had to sit next to him._ _

__"I fear we may not be available either, Gran," Victoire said apologetically, flashing Grandmum an I'm-so-sorry smile that fooled the adults, but not Roxy. "Teddy's been busy with missions lately." She patted her husband's arm. "Uncle Harry just keeps him so preoccupied."_ _

__"It's so you two will stop having bloody kids," Roxy heard James grumble under his breath, and though Victoire's eyes flashed, she only continued to smile serenely while her son squalled in Victoire's arms._ _

__"Well Lucy and I certainly cannot," said Louis and Lucy nodded in agreement. "She and Rayna and I are planning on checking out flats soon—do you know how expensive it's gotten to travel back and forth between here and Romania? Bloody mad. I've talked plenty about trying to get a group going closer to home, but they've yet to listen to me."_ _

__"And Lily is currently unavailable as well as she will be extremely busy," Lily said with a laugh. "Like, all summer. So she cannot house-sit." Talking in the third person was a strange habit that Lily seemed to have picked up recently—and one that she refused to drop, much to everyone else's annoyance._ _

__"What exactly is it that our dear Lily will be doing this summer that she can't watch over her grandparents' house?" asked Aunt Ginny, raising an eyebrow while James and Albus snickered behind their mum's back._ _

__"Oh, this and that, you know. Important things," Lily replied vaguely, waving her hand._ _

__"Like getting a job? Moving out of our house finally?"_ _

__"Gin," Uncle Harry interrupted, placing a hand on Aunt Ginny's arm. "Now is not the time to be having this argument." Aunt Ginny scowled into her dinner place, but nodded._ _

__"So that leaves Molly, Al, Hugo, or Roxy," said Grandmum brightly, looking over at the remaining grandchildren, who all glanced amongst each other uncomfortably. "Surely at least one of you isn't so busy with your own life that you could help out your dear grandparents for a month? There would be enough money set aside to pay for groceries and the like. All you'd have to do is stay here. I assure you, the Burrow is a very lovely place during July and August."_ _

__Hugo looked down at his place and blushed while Molly muttered about things beginning to pick up finally with her long-term boyfriend and how they were possibly going to Venice soon, she wasn't sure but it was best to not get tangled up in any other plans at the moment. Albus, to the point as ever, simply stated that he'd rather not house-sit at the moment; Aunt Ginny scowled at him, but Al only shrugged and muttered that it was the truth—and wasn't that what his parents had always taught him to do, tell the truth?_ _

__"Roxy?" Grandmum asked, looking at Roxy with curiosity._ _

__She could feel her cousins' eyes on her, and the way her mum was glancing pointedly at Roxy, and she sighed. There was just no way of getting out of this without sounding like a bad person, was there? Everyone else knew she wasn't busy, and Mum would be furious if Roxy upset Grandmum, no matter that all the other cousins had already said no first. If only she'd been faster to come up with an excuse! If only she'd said yes to that stupid internship—_ _

__"Roxy. Your grandmother asked you a question, and it is incredibly disrespectful to not answer her," said Mum loudly. Roxy mentally glared at her mother; she had heard that her mum was once mischievous and fun, but Roxy couldn't remember Mum ever being that way in her lifetime._ _

__"I suppose so Gran," muttered Roxy, looking down at her dinner forlornly. She didn't hate the Burrow—there were plenty of good memories of chasing Freddie around in the yard and playing in the creek with Lily, but the Burrow had always felt too wrapped up in memories of her father, who had filled Roxy's head with tales of his childhood pranks._ _

__She didn't want to watch over the Burrow for a whole month. She didn't even want to watch it for a day; Roxy didn't really "do" responsibility—that was much more for the likes of Molly or Victoire, but Grandmum was smiling so happily at Roxy that she couldn't very well take her offer back._ _

__And the other cousins were sighing in relief as well, each glad that it was little Roxy who had been talked into the job so that they didn't have to, so that they could keep doing whatever they wanted with their lives instead of having to interrupt and change everything for a month._ _

__"Oh Roxy, thank you so much!" said Grandmum happily, smiling at her youngest grandchild like Roxy had just announced that she had announced herself as the second coming of Merlin himself. "You don't know how happy this makes your grandfather and I. we've been planning this trip for nearly a year now—after all, you're only married for sixty years once!"_ _

__"If you've been planning for a year, why hadn't you already found someone to watch the house for you?" Roxy grumbled to herself, but to her grandmother, she only said, "Of course, Gran. I would be absolutely devastated if you didn't get to go on your special anniversary holiday just because of something as trivial as the house."_ _

__Dinner wrapped up shortly thereafter, with Victoire and Molly jumping up to offer help washing the dishes. Grandpa offered after-dinner drinks to anyone who was interested; Uncle Ron and Uncle Bill took him up on that, but Uncle Percy mumbled some excuse about a new diet that didn't allow for alcohol—he was campaigning for a second term as Minister of Magic and had recently become obsessed with his appearance, as he had grown quite pudgy with age._ _

__"We'd love to Arthur," said Uncle Harry, "but Gin and I really ought to go. She's off to report on a match early tomorrow and we've got extra training for some of the newer recruits—which I expect Teddy to be at." He shot a meaningful glance at his godson, who waved off Uncle Harry with a "yeah, yeah, Harry, I won't turn up too smashed."_ _

__"Angelina? Would you like to stay for a spell?" asked Grandpa. "Perhaps Molly and I can go over all the things we need for Roxy to do while we're gone—of course, I'm sure Molly'll leave a list around somewhere, but it doesn't hurt to have an expectation of what we want her to do."_ _

__"Why not? You know, I think this will be a good lesson in responsibility for Roxanne" Mum replied, while Roxy groaned. Something told her the next month wouldn't be nearly as easy-going as her grandparents wanted Roxy to believe._ _


	8. There's no way this is real

To Lily's credit, she made it a full twelve days before approaching Roxy about hosting a party at the now mostly-abandoned Burrow. Roxy had predicted that her newly wild-girl cousin would only last two days, three at most if she attempted to handle the situation with a little decorum. Roxy suspected, though, that she had accidentally let it slip to Tolkien that her grandmum's house was currently empty except for Roxy, and he had most likely put the pressure on her to get a party started at the famed Weasley Burrow.

After all, her grandparents' house was well-known, thanks to media sources such as _The Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly _, and countless others that had become so numerous that Roxy typically tuned out what they were saying.__

__As the younger daughter of a world-renowned Quidditch player as well as the man who had opened and run Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Roxy had found herself in the papers on numerous occasions—once, she and Lily had laughed themselves silly at the sight of a blurry picture of the two girls hovering a few feet above the ground with the caption _"Famed Quidditch mums Ginny Potter and Angelina Weasley allow young daughters to endanger themselves. 8 and 6 year old girls go unsupervised on unstable broomsticks!" _____

____(It had been especially ridiculous since both their mothers were actually just out of frame, observing the girls and keeping them from trying to fly too high.)_ _ _ _

____But the public eye had always been turned to the Weasleys, and because the Burrow was the origin of such offspring, she supposed it made sense that there was such an interest that bordered on obsession with the old house. It wouldn't be the first time someone had approached her about being allowed to see the inside of what many in the wizarding world considered to be a monument to the war._ _ _ _

____(Never mind that there were still people living inside the 'monument', or that their descendants were fiercely loyal to their grandparents and were therefore justly determined to keep the outsiders where they belonged—outside.)_ _ _ _

____"So?" Lily tilted her head, eyes widened in reminiscence of a small animal, as though she believed she would be able to 'cute' her way into getting Roxy to go along with her plans. "Can't you just see it? I mean, we'd have tons more room than we've ever had at Mia's…"_ _ _ _

____She continued to babble on about "their" party, but Roxy tuned her out; how was it that Lily, who had always made an effort to discourage Roxy from hanging out with people like Tolkien Smith or Mia and Mohammed Itterman, yet now she was acting as though they had all been her best mates since nappies?_ _ _ _

____Lily had changed so much in the past two years since she had graduated; Roxy had overheard Aunt Ginny once telling Grandmum that she worried for the day that Lily would come home with bubble gum pink hair and a nose ring._ _ _ _

____Roxy wouldn't be surprised if her cousin ever did something like that soon—after all, long gone was the bubbly, happy-go-lucky girl who stood up for herself, having apparently been replaced by some frantic 'look-at-me' party-girl who was obsessed with how she looked to others, even to those magazines and newspapers that they had once laughed at._ _ _ _

____"…and Tolkien was thinking that, well…you know how he is. But, er, he was thinking that maybe we could even go down to the muggle village. Y'know, pop in, say hello to all the dears? It'd be fun, don't you think? And you're not even listening to me, are you Rox?" Lily sighed, calling her younger cousin's attention back to the wild redhead._ _ _ _

____"Sorry, what? I was just, er…"_ _ _ _

____Lily raised an eyebrow at her. "Getting distracted?"_ _ _ _

____Roxy nodded; that had been happening a lot more as of late. Roxy found that the conversations of those around her were becoming less and less interesting, the mundane habits and daily rituals of polite conversation merely boring her until she found herself only able to focus on her own thoughts and everything else became white noise._ _ _ _

____She wondered if that was her body's way of telling Roxy that she was turning into a selfish little bitch—something that Roxy had always suspected would turn out to be true about herself._ _ _ _

____"So? Yes or no to the party?" Lily asked anxiously, poking Roxy in the side and giving the younger girl a smile. "I'd help clean up afterwards, I swear. I mean, this is my gran's house as well, and it'd be rude to let everyone trash it and then abandon you to have to clean up the mess all by yourself when I'm the one who pushed you to even have a party."_ _ _ _

____Say what you will about Lily, but at least she tried to be a good person sometimes, as she had been raised to be; Roxy, on the other hand, had given up on pretending to play the part of the 'good little girl' the day the Sorting Hat had placed her into Slytherin._ _ _ _

____Roxy sighed, wondering if there was any real way for her to get out of throwing a party here. But Lily was giving her those puppy dog eyes and reminding her that "it would only be for one night, Rox! After all, you deserve some fun!" And she did deserve some fun, didn't she? Watching this boring house for a whole month with nothing to do and barely anyone to talk to?_ _ _ _

____"Fine," Roxy finally said, caving in. Lily squealed happily, throwing her arms around Roxy and kissing the top of her forehead._ _ _ _

____"Oh yay, yay! I love you sooo much Roxy! You're the best, the absolute best! You're just bloody fantastic, do you know that? Wow! Thanks a whole bunch! I'm gonna go tell Tolkien so we can get set up! How does seven tonight sound for you? Oh good, thanks Roxy!" She was gone before Roxy could protest, running out the door and down past the apparition wards._ _ _ _

____"You're welcome?" Roxy mumbled to the air, scratching her head in bewilderment. After a minute, though, she began to look around for cups and plates. She suspected they were going to need a lot of drinks to keep the party going. "I'm definitely gonna regret this tomorrow, aren't I?"  
\---_ _ _ _

____The party was in full swing by nine that night, with people dancing wildly, drinking, and generally enjoying themselves. A few had initially been in awe to find themselves in the Burrow, but after a few drinks, everyone seemed to have gotten over it. They were certainly trashing the place as if it were any other house._ _ _ _

____People kept making their way over to where Roxy was nursing an almost completely full bottle of Butterbeer, sitting—sulking, really—on the couch in her grandmum's sitting room. They thanked her for holding the party and complimenting the house; Roxy only nodded and made polite conversation until they left to talk to someone else. She didn't feel very sociable tonight, for some odd reason. Perhaps because the party had been going for over two hours and she hadn't seen Lily since it started, and Jo had owled Roxy to tell her she couldn't come over, having become completely swamped at her new job._ _ _ _

____Even Kieran had told her he was unavailable for the night, leaving Roxy to entertain a bunch of near-strangers for several hours, and with no desire to really do anything. She sighed, fingernails scraping against the wrapper of her bottle._ _ _ _

____Perhaps she ought to go find Lily—or perhaps not. The older girl was probably making out with Tolkien in one of the bedrooms upstairs, and Roxy would rather not walk into the middle of that._ _ _ _

____"Hey Roxy," said Emily Maccabee, suddenly appearing over Roxy, little Faith in her arms. "It's nice to see you again."_ _ _ _

____"Er, you too," Roxy replied, thrown off. She hadn't expected to see Emily of all people here—and with a little girl in tow as well? "I'm surprised you're here tonight."_ _ _ _

____"Oh, well." Emily shrugged. "I'm not really here for the party, to be honest. There's something I came to do, and I thought now would be the best time to get it done, really."_ _ _ _

____Roxy was curious. "What do you need?"_ _ _ _

____"Can you look after her for me?" Emily asked suddenly, setting Faith down on the couch next to Roxy. "I, uh, I have to go talk to someone and, er…well, I just need maybe ten minutes. And I, uh, I trust you to watch her—" Roxy had to say that Emily didn't seem to really mean it, but she nodded willingly. "—so would you mind too terribly? You two could catch up while I'm gone."_ _ _ _

____"Um…sure, yeah." She didn't really know how to say no. Did she even want to say no? After all, this was her niece, and they ought to get to know each other, oughtn't they?_ _ _ _

____"Okay. Thanks."_ _ _ _

____And just like that, Emily was gone, lost in the crowd of people who were talking, drinking, and dancing. It was almost as if she had never been there at all, leaving behind Roxy and Faith to stare at each other on the couch. Roxy briefly—panicking for a second—worried that Emily would never come back, but she quashed that feeling. Emily would never just abandon her own daughter, would she?_ _ _ _

____Roxy looked down at Faith, unsure of what to say to the four-and-a-half year old. The last time she had been anywhere near the little girl, it had been for only a mere five minutes, and Roxy had been at least a little tipsy._ _ _ _

____There was also the awkward part of attempting to connect with Faith in that Roxy could not look down at her niece without seeing her brother in the curly, dark hair and her pretty brown eyes. Faith just looked too much like her father._ _ _ _

____"So do you have a middle name?" she asked, cringing inwardly; how was it that she had never cared enough before to even find out her own niece's full name? Why had she never cared before now?_ _ _ _

____Faith nodded and slowly sounded out her name. "Mummy says my name is Faith Mackayla Maccabee. My birfday is on the fouwth of Jan-u-airee. I am four-and-a-half years old." Faith held out four fingers, grinning, and then looked up expectantly at Roxy. "You're supp'sed to tell me now."_ _ _ _

____"O-oh." Roxy couldn't remember being four years old; was this how they all were, wanting to dig out every scrap of information that they could find? Had she been this intrusive, this curious, to learn about everything that was not herself and therefore already known? "Um, well, I'm Roxanne, but you already knew that, so, uh…"_ _ _ _

____"No, you have to tell me your full name." Faith crossed her arms, determination sparking in her big brown eyes. "That's how it works."_ _ _ _

____"Uh, well, I—I, um, am Roxanne Raechell Weasley. Um, uh, I was, uh, born on the twenty-eight of September, and I'm eighteen, almost nineteen." Roxy wondered what it would be like if things had been different, if Faith was a Weasley, like she was. If Roxy had known the little girl for Faith's whole life, instead of only having met her for the first time only a month ago—what would that have been like, to have been involved in her niece's infancy?_ _ _ _

____Faith continued to chatter to Roxy for several minutes, telling her all about the various colourings and doodles that Faith had been working on at her day-care. She seemed to not mind the crowd of noisy people, chatting happily, until she suddenly fell silent. Roxy turned to look at the little girl, curious as to why she had stopped speaking._ _ _ _

____"Are you alright Faith?"_ _ _ _

____"There's _somebody here _," murmured the little girl, leaning into Roxy's arm, her curls brushing just under Roxy's chin.___ _ _ _

______"Yes Faith, there are a lot of people here. More people than Lily told me there would be, to be honest." Roxy looked around at all the party-goers, wondering where Emily had gone off to, and when she would be coming back. It certainly felt like it had already been ten minutes—and then some._ _ _ _ _ _

______"No, there's somebody here," Faith insisted, pointing to a corner of the room where nobody was; the area was, strangely, empty despite the mass of people that filled her grandmother's sitting room. Roxy watched as a couple drifted over to the corner only to wander back off with a dazed look as if pushed away by some unseen force._ _ _ _ _ _

_______Somebody. Here. In my grandparents' house. Someone that no one can see except for Faith. And usually unseen things aren't just here for a nice chat and some Butterbeer _. Roxy groaned. Why did these sorts of things always have to happen to her? Why couldn't the party just go normally—only a few shattered vases and angry couples being tossed out of the bed tomorrow morning?__ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Faith? Can you see the 'somebody'? Can you tell me what you see when you look over there?" Could somebody have snuck in with an Invisibility Cloak? Was it possibly a reporter hoping to get an inside scoop into the life of the Weasleys?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Maybe it's a ghost, she thought, and then laughed. How ridiculous would that be? A ghost coming back just to sit in the corner of her grandmum's sitting room and mess with partiers? Besides, everyone knew that the ghosts had all disappeared ages ago—before Roxy was even alive. No one knew where they had gone to, or why they'd all suddenly left; just that, one day, they had all faded away without a word._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Roxy had heard stories about an old Hogwarts professor who had been a ghost—supposedly, he'd died one afternoon and simply continued teaching that afternoon like nothing had ever happened. But he was gone now, along with the rest of the ghosts, and had been replaced by a normal, living professor._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________So if it definitely wasn't a ghost, so it had to be someone who was alive, and probably not the sort of people that Roxy wanted hanging around her house._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Faith squinted, and then grinned, clapping her small hands together in excitement. "It's Daddy, it's Daddy! He's come to say hello!" She slipped off the couch, but before she could run over to 'Daddy', Roxy caught the little girl by the arm. "Roxy, that's my daddy. I have to say hi!"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"That's not your father." Roxy shook her head and scooped the girl up. Faith was messing with her. It was much more likely that there was no one in that corner at all and people were avoiding it because…because it was darkly lit or something. "There's no one there, Faith."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"No! That's Daddy!" Faith squirmed in Roxy's arms, struggling to get down. "That's Daddy, it's Daddy, I pwomise! He wants to say hello to us. He wants to say hello to me and you."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Roxy shook her head again. She didn't understand why Faith was being this way all of a sudden; just a few minutes ago, Faith had been happily sitting there, telling Roxy her whole life story, and now she was playing this awful game with Roxy._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________But she's only four. She doesn't understand that Freddie is gone. Maybe it's just a thing little kids do, imagining a parent to replace the real one. But has she ever even seen a photo of him before? Has Emily ever shown her a picture of Freddie? ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Come on, Faith, let's go find your mum and get you home before this party gets any wilder. Besides," Grandmum's clock began chiming in the other room, "it's definitely past your bedtime. I'm surprised your mum even brought you here tonight—or that she came herself. We haven't seen her around since—uh, I mean, we haven't seen her in a while."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Faith tried to squirm out of Roxy's grasp one last time, but finally gave up and laid her head across Roxy's shoulder. "Mummy says that par-dees aren't for people like her. She says all the al-coo-hull is bad for her or something. Mummy says she used to go to par-dees, but it's no fun an'mo'. That's what Mummy says."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Well, your mummy is probably right. After all, she's adult." Roxy couldn't help but nervously glance over her shoulder from time to time, expecting to find someone sitting in the previously empty corner, someone who didn't belong here with the rest of them. She shook her head. _You're being paranoid again, Rox. First thinking someone was watching you at the graduation ceremony, and now you're imagining ghosts are at your party? Better make sure you aren't losing it. _____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Roxy wandered up the stairs, occasionally knocking on doors, calling out Emily's name; she received a few disgruntled 'bugger off' responses from locked rooms, but Emily did not come out. Roxy scowled, heading further up the stairs, passing by one of the many bedrooms that had been added on over the years._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________And then she stopped, noticing that someone had placed a sign up on the door that definitely hadn't been hanging when she had come up here earlier to check. 'Property of Fred & George Weasley. Enter at own risk.' The sign was old, the edges torn and peeling, and the whole thing was beginning to yellow._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Roxy recalled seeing a similar sign—eerily similar—sitting in her grandparents' shed when she had gone exploring in there as a young girl. Was it the same one? No, it couldn't possibly be the same sign, unless…perhaps someone had broken into the shed and thought it would be funny to hang the sign up while she wasn't paying attention._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________"That's where Daddy sleeps," Faith whispered, sounding much more serious than any four year old had a right to. "He likes it in there. That's what Daddy told me."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Roxy had half a mind to scream at the little girl, but she knew that it wouldn't solve her problems to start berating a child about the impossibilities of her father sleeping in this bedroom. She took a deep breath to keep calm._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________As she read the sign again, though, Roxy could almost understand why Faith thought someone might be in there. The door seemed to call to her, to whisper her name, inviting her inside to see what secrets this old bedroom hid. The hand that wasn't tightly wrapped around Faith was reaching out, stretching towards the door handle, and though she tried to resist, it felt like something was pulling her forward. She had to open the door, had to make sure that no one was inside._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________The noise from downstairs had faded. The walls of the house itself had faded, leaving just Roxy and the door handle and the sign. Even Faith was suddenly weightless, like she had run off downstairs; Roxy half-suspected that if she looked down at where the girl was, Faith would no longer be in her arm. It was just her and this room that was beckoning her closer._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________"Roxy? Faith? I've been looking all over for you guys. Where have you been?" Suddenly, the noise came back, and so did the weight of Faith, making Roxy stagger as the strange desire to open the door left her. Emily was standing on the edge of the landing, staring at them both. "People said they saw you coming up here and..." She peered at Roxy. "Are you alright, dear?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Roxy shook her head, trying to clear her mind. Why was she up here again? She couldn't even recall having gone up this far…hadn't she been looking for something or someone? You were looking for Freddie. No, that wasn't right. She couldn't have been looking for him, that would be silly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________"Roxy?" Emily asked again, louder this time, and Roxy stared at her, the spell finally broken. "Are you okay? You were just staring at that door. Did you, like, take something while I was gone? Or are you drunk? What's going on?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________"Mummy!" cried Faith, leaping from Roxy's grasp to run to her mother. "I saw Daddy! He's wif all the people, but Roxy doesn't be-leaf me." Emily frowned and looked at Roxy in confusion, but the younger girl only shrugged. She was still a bit thrown off. Had they seen someone downstairs? She couldn't remember._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________"Come on then, love, we ought to be going." Emily hoisted her daughter up in her arms, giving Roxy a smile. "Thanks for watching her while I was gone. I really appreciate it."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________"Yeah," said Roxy absently, waving her hand. Then she remembered something. "Hey Emily? You said you had to talk to someone. Who was it?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Emily didn't meet her gaze, eyes shifting awkwardly towards the floor. "Oh, er…they didn't show up, actually. I guess I'll see them eventually, though, so there's no harm done." She shrugged, looking nervously around. "But, uh, I should really be taking Faith home now. I shouldn't really have brought her here in the first place, but there was no one able to watch her on such short notice, so…"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Roxy nodded as Emily made her way down the stairs back into the throng of people. Roxy remained on the landing for a few moments longer, eyes drifting back towards the sign. _'Property of Fred and George Weasley. Enter at own risk.' _____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"There's no one in there, stupid," she told herself. "This is why you were never in Ravenclaw." She headed back downstairs, hoping she could find Lily so they could get flat out drunk and Roxy could forget everything that had happened in the last hour._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


End file.
